Destiny of Man
Chapter 4: A Family Dinner
"Funny, don't you think? No matter what language they speak, no matter where they were born, everyone sounds the same when you tear out their fingernails."
King Aerys the Second after the Defiance of Duskendale
"Do you know who else is coming to supper?" I asked, fastening my doublet before glancing over at my sister behind me.
Rhaenys Targaryen was sitting on the edge of my bed, nursing a glass of persimmon wine on her lap. She looked beautiful and I honestly felt underdressed. My taste in clothes was whatever was most practical for the moment, and I usually stuck to black. If I were to be captured by Robert and sent to the Night's Watch, their fashion sense would largely align with mine. At least when it came to colour. Freezing snow and being surrounded by smelly criminals was a different matter altogether.
My sister did look stunning though. She was dressed in a clinging gown of orange and golden silk with scarlet samite sleeves and a skirt with a long slit that did nothing to hide her ravishingly graceful legs. Her hair had been oiled and braided and soaked in perfume that smelled of spice. In her boredom, she'd kicked her sandals halfway across the chamber and her toes were playing with the tassels running along the edge of the Myrish carpet.
She made a soft humming sound, too engrossed in her little game. A gentle smile graced her plump lips. "Just you and me from what I've come to understand. Then mother who's organising the supper for us. Of course. That's unless you just want the two of us?"
"I'd love to have supper with my favourite sister," I grinned playfully at her.
"I'm your only sister," she pouted and didn't look like a princess in the slightest.
The only one I'm aware of. "Therefore you've got no competition to be my favourite."
Rhaenys gave me a pointed look that said if the bowl of fruit was within arm's reach she'd be catapulting its contents at me.
I turned around – praying she wouldn't lean over – and continued fiddling with the strings of my garbs. It wasn't uncommon for us to have dinner together as a family and just talk. It was a quiet experience and a very wholesome one that – considering this was Westeros where pawning your children off to potential allies was a family tradition all the noble houses shared – was something I very much enjoyed. Tying the last lace, I examined myself in the mirror and was satisfied with how I looked. It wasn't too over the top, nor was it lazy. I was dressed in a handsome orange doublet with red Myrish silk emblazoned with the Martell sun and spear as well as brass studs.
"We're to meet her outside. Mother's currently with Lady Ashara."
As could be expected. The two of them were close friends. Very close friends who were seldom apart. It was cute, in all honesty. "Are we going to meet them then or . . ."
"That's the plan, Egg." Rhae stood up with a wide toothy grin and offered me her hand. "I'm looking forward to this supper. I hear Mother's got some important news she wants to share."
"You've piqued my interest. Mind telling me what it is?"
Rhae tapped her nose with her free hand, smiling mischievously. "I said what I heard. Mother will no doubt tell us, and I know how much you hate secrets."
"You're a cruel girl, Rhaenys Nymeros Targaryen," I drawled. "Tormenting me in such a way. Your own flesh and blood."
"I'm your sister, Egg. It's my duty to torment you. If anything, I'm shirking these necessary responsibilities." She smiled impishly.
"With such words how can I not forgive you?" I rolled my eyes overdramatically and made her laugh before accepting her arm. "Just be thankful you look lovely, sweet sister. That dress does you wonders. Wonders that worm their way into my heart." She playfully wracked my shoulder. But despite her attempts at pretending to be appalled, Rhae failed to hide her smile or the slight blush dusting her cheeks. "Now you're attacking me. What would mother say when we meet? Should I have a kingsguard protect my person whenever you're around?"
"She'll forgive me for having a pest of a brother."
"That I have no doubt."
I gave my sister a quick peck on the cheek telling her all was forgiven as if there was anything to forgive. I did enjoy our banter. It was fun and we always seemed closer when we were having them. I just hoped our relationship wouldn't drift apart as so many had done in my former life. Granted, we were related but I didn't want to take the risk, and I didn't want to repeat all the failures of my past. I was actively doing the inverse in many ways.
When we exited my chambers, Rhaenys gave me the directions and we needed to pass half the Water Gardens to get there. It was an especially hot day as well and, with luck, my clothes wouldn't get stained. That was also why I carefully led the way but not through any of the pools swarming with cousins and other children escaping the heat. The days were only getting hotter of late and even my loose Dornish garbs were beginning to chafe.
But despite said heat, I knew it'd be even hotter outside without the plentiful shade. It was warm but it was a pleasurable heat I'd easily adapted to when compared to the dreary grey of the United Kingdom where it was sunny several days of the year and gloomy the rest. I was enjoying this new world I found myself in. It might lack modern technology but in some ways that was a good thing. It was harder for me to be distracted . . . even if I found myself getting lost in my thoughts, and I was much healthier as a result of much more exercise and eating food not crammed full of preservatives and sugar and whatever else. It also helped that the air smelled of lemons and I was surrounded by pretty girls who for whatever reason enjoyed my company.
Maybe it's my princely charm. You get a title and suddenly all the girls are trying to lead you to a secluded alcove to stick their tongue down your throat. Multiple tongues down my throat in some cases.
We continued walking and I let Rhaenys lead me to the main courtyard with the greatest pool and the largest fountain where I found most of the children of the Water Gardens loitering away, either in the water or within the shade. Sitting at one of the stone benches overlooking a pond swarming with brightly scaled fish was Mother sitting beside Lady Ashara with a smiling Lyarra next to her. Grinning, Rhae hastened her step and practically dragged me over there.
I wasn't going to slow her down and hastened my step to match hers.
Noticing us, both the sun and star of Dorne waved us over. Rhae slowed down immediately upon meeting Mother's eyes and walked less like a giddy girl and more like royalty with graceful steps not quite working out due to her somewhat lanky build. I remembered once when we met Mother like this. I was younger and Rhaenys was practically dragging me from a play session with the Sand Snakes. That was when she was less the dutiful princess. Once she saw mother, Rhae let go, ran, and practically threw herself into our mother's arms who, in turn, let out a howl of laughter as she wrapped her daughter in a suffocating hug. One that I very much joined in with. Because why not?
This time we didn't run over to embrace Mother, but instead approached at an even pace. We were royals and royalty was expected to hold a higher standard than everyone else. Didn't stop us from doing it when we were younger though. Me for the act (mostly) and Rhae because her feelings were completely legit.
"Prince Aegon! Princess Rhaenys!" the Star of Dorne immediately stood up and performed a graceful curtsy. "It is wonderful to see you."
"As are we, Lady Ashara," Rhaenys Targaryen said with a small smile that did little to hide the sparkle in her eyes. She was only fourteen, or four-and-ten in the Westerosi tongue, and I wouldn't say she had as strict lessons as Lady Margaery.
How old is Margaery now? Eleven?
If Rhaenys was to be the polite princess, I was going to be Prince Chaumont.
"My two favourite Dornish ladies," I laughed, kissing Mother's cheek like the good son I was.
But Princess Elia ignored that and patted me on the head as she did when I was little. Because teenagerhood wasn't a thing in Westeros, there wasn't a definite spot between what made a child and a man. The age of majority was clearly regarded as six-and-ten, but anything between twelve and that point was up in the air. It depended on where you lived, and it seemed in Dorne it was higher than most. But, like a champion, I gritted my teeth and held strong against Mother deciding then to try and neaten my hair as she always did. She did it at the worst possible times as well!
And when Princess Elia was done with that, I quickly sidestepped, smiled once more, and acted like I wasn't interrupted. "As I was saying, you both look truly lovely this fine day. I hope my sister and I aren't interrupting anything. It sounded like you were in the midst of a conversation. If so, pray forgive us." I then smiled my best boyish smile. It proved super effective, especially to Lyarra who went beat red. The wink I sent her way didn't help either. What could I say? I loved to tease her.
"You interrupted nothing of importance," the beauty of Starfall laughed and there were few things in the world that produced a nicer sound.
When I read the books I was generally dismissive of Lady Ashara Dayne. She wasn't much of a character (and even that was overselling it), and the only thing ever said about her was her beauty. It was to the point that I generally dismissed her and thought, "She's overrated clearly. She's not that attractive." For whatever reason, Rob decided she was to be spared and, frankly, I was glad for it. Somehow calling her one of the most beautiful women in the world was somehow downplaying her attractiveness if such a thing was possible. Standing up, she performed a small curtsy, and I replied by being the perfect gentleman and kissing the back of her hand.
"The gallant prince," Lady Dayne said with a gentle smile. Despite myself, I couldn't help but feel my cheeks redden.
She truly was beautiful. Violet eyes like those of my sister glinting with mischief and happiness, a striking face that could make any man come undone, luscious full lips and perfect curves which her current dress did little to hide thanks to the way the dark purple silk hugged her body as intimately as any lover. Her flawless skin was sun-kissed, and Ashara's long dark hair tumbled down her shoulders in curls to a plump backside I'd admit to having more than once fanaticised about. Ashara Dayne could bring any man to their knees with only a glance and bend them to her will.
Yet she did no such thing.
Lady Ashara had taken no husbands despite being young, coming from an ancient prestigious house and capable of bearing children. Despite being sent hundreds of offers from rich and powerful lords, she had accepted none. Instead, the Star of Dorne had retired from Starfall from what she claimed was the constant braying of the seneschal to serve as the personal companion of Princess Elia Martell.
"You're such a charmer, brother," Rhae said with an edge beneath her delightful smile before curtsying to our mother. "Princess—"
Mother blew it off with a wave before saying, "I'm your mother, Rhaenys. Before me and our friends, you are simply my daughter. There is no need to curtsy before me. No need to use my title." That was something she regularly told Rhae, and Rhaenys would do it regardless because that was what a princess was meant to do. I also felt my sister enjoyed hearing those words. "Are you both ready for supper?" She turned to Ashara and kissed her friend on both cheeks, grinning wide. "Forgive me if I must take my leave, Ash."
Lady Dayne laughed. "It would be improper of me to keep your supper waiting. Go with your children. My daughter and I are going to retire to the sept. It's much more peaceful and cooler than this heat."
"A pious woman," I grinned. Though only as much as she needed to be. The sept was beautiful, and it was always pleasantly cool. Sometimes it was nice to retire there just for the peace and quiet. The gentle sound of water running from the fountain had many times calmed my mind when it was its most chaotic.
Lady Ashara winked at me, and then both mother and daughter said their goodbyes to Rhaenys and me. Before taking their leave, I just had to sneak in a quick kiss on the knuckles for Lyarra and a smouldering glance because I just couldn't resist leaving her flustered and red in the cheeks. It took all my willpower not to laugh out loud and thankfully diverted the sound from my throat into a chuckle I covered with the back of my hand.
While mother looked at me with a silly smile as if to say, "How adorable," Rhaenys leaned over when the Daynes disappeared and whispered, "Don't be a tease."
"I was doing no such thing!" I defended myself from her cruel allegations with a hand pressed to my heart. "I was only being a charming prince!"
"A little too charming," I couldn't help but overhear Rhaenys mutter under her breath.
Mother looked at our little exchange with a grin that only grew wider. "Do not fault your brother, Rhaenys. Princes are meant to be charming and tease girls." And with those words, I shot my sister a smug little smirk like the little brother I was. And like an older sibling, she looked ready to put me in my place. But Rhae didn't have the chance to do so as Mother spoke up again: "There is something I want to tell you both, and I would rather it be away from the noise. There's some secluded seating nearby. We can sup there."
That piqued my interest, but it'd be improper to ask what she meant now. And as to uphold my reputation, I offered Mother my arm. Giggling, Prince Elia accepted and led the way.
Despite all the foreknowledge I had of the books and how things were meant to go, I didn't really know why Rhaegar had dishonoured my mother so. Oh, there were a couple reasons that floated about. Whether Rhaegar fell head over heels for an underage girl and decided to wet his cock and spirit her off to the middle of a desert to lock her in a tower, or because he decided he needed a chosen one to either replace me or birth the third head of the dragon who'd end up marrying me if things went the way Rhaegar hoped. There could be other reasons as well but those were the main two and neither painted Rhaegar Targaryen in a positive light. At best he was delusional. At worst, he was a sexual predator who preyed upon an underage girl with emotional manipulation if he didn't just rape her outright. And to those who claim, 'Oh, Westeros' age of consent is twelve years old for a girl so Lyanna's an adult,' I will correct you by saying Lyanna had no bodily autonomy. She belonged to her father and brothers. So, by that logic, Rhaegar still raped her because Lord Rickard couldn't possibly consent. Her own thoughts on the matter were irrelevant.
But as far as I cared, I wasn't Rhaegar's son. And Lyanna was nothing either. Unless she was forced against her will, she was at fault as well. Not to mention a massive hypocrite who garnered no sympathy from me.
Maybe that was mean. But I honestly didn't care.
It was either delusion or lust in my mind. No sane person would act the way Rhaegar Targaryen acted. I wasn't only saying that because I hated Rhaegar in the first place or that Elia deserved better (which she clearly did). Mother was everything a prince could want and need. She was politically acute, kind-hearted, and intelligent, had a solid grasp of what was going on around her and had a sweet wit that could charm even the sourest of lords. She was also beautiful, as a disproportionate number of nobles tended to be, and she outshone a great many of them. It was political suicide and actual suicide when he decided to piss off Robert who in fact should have served as Rhaegar's most loyal future bannerman due to them being cousins. But instead, the Prince of Dragonstone decided to anger Robert first with his little gesture at Harrenhal then going several steps further by initiating the catalyst by kidnapping a high lord's daughter and enraging the biggest political and military power bloc in the Seven Kingdoms.
Hell, I wouldn't even put it past Rhaegar to plan to lose. His actions certainly seemed to hint that—
"Egg? Egg?" came my sister's voice and when I faced her with a blank expression, she rolled her eyes. "You're distracted again. What were you thinking about this time that's more important than what's happening out here?" She gestured around, a gentle smirk touching her lips.
"S-sorry for that." Once I thought of Rhaegar I always felt the need to rant inside my head. "Just got a little distracted . . ."
"I hope that won't happen when we're supping together," Mother said softly before pinching my cheek. Her dark eyes sparked with humour, and I smiled despite myself. "I'm sure you're going to enjoy the news and I don't want to keep you waiting."
The Sun of Dorne led us to a secluded patio overlooking the ocean. It was a beautifully secluded spot tucked into the corner of the Water Gardens where you could gaze out at the beach and its pristine white sands well-treaded by tiny feet and spotted with tiny sandcastles decorated with seashells and protected by walls and towers and moats. At sunset, the beach would always be orange like a master artist had dripped their brush in liquid fire. But now it was a clear blue with not a cloud to be seen. A small table sat in the centre of the patio, laden high with an assortment of desserts and treats, filling the air with the sweet smell of pastries and ripe fruit. The walls were green with ivy which winded up the columns and sprouted with bright flowers.
Looking at this, I couldn't help but wonder what Highgarden was like. Supposedly that castle was overwhelmed with flora, so I wondered if the Water Gardens looked barren by comparison. Not that it mattered. The Water Gardens would always be my home. That inherently made it superior.
The three of us sat together, our plates stacked full of a diverse selection of tarts that could be swallowed with a single bite. Such little delicacies were common for the nobility in high-class settings and one of many things that were no different between Earth and Planetos, it seemed. But despite them being small and never quite filling, I couldn't complain about their quality. There were dozens of tarts. Some were apple and blackcurrant; others were a variety of custard tarts which were popular across Westeros. Strawberries and raspberries, cranberries and blueberries, butter tarts and tarts sprouted with sliced almonds and ginger and all sorts of spices. There were drinks as well. But while wine was given to children, it was nearly always watered down. Cider was much preferable. I personally preferred cider, so I took that while Rhae took delight in her thinned Arbor Red (it was the most civilised, she claimed).
"What is it, mother?" I asked after swallowing a lemon tart which was my favourite sort of tart. I could confidently say Sansa had the best taste in food. That was fortunate as her craving for the stuff seemed to provide a decent percentage of Dorne's exports to the North. Depending on what happened, I knew I could win her heart if needed through her tummy . . . if I didn't eat it all myself, of course. "You mentioned you wanted to tell us something."
"I did," the princess smiled at me after letting out a satisfied sound upon chewing her own delectable delight. She swallowed once again to clear her throat and sat straighter in her cushioned seat. "I'm sure you'll like it as well."
"And what might it be? You're drawing it out and I'm honestly waiting in anticipation. Restless even."
Elia smiled playfully. "Word of your uncle Oberyn."
"Uncle Oberyn?" Rhae's face lit up at the mention of her favourite uncle. All traces of the princess she was vanished in a heartbeat. "Is he returning?"
"He's recently returned from Essos and his ship has been sighted at Planky Town. Unfortunately, he's not coming straight here but instead going to Sunspear to meet with Prince Doran and the children there. Once his business has been concluded, he's coming straight here."
I beamed.
It had been a while since we'd last seen our uncle. More than a year in fact since he'd left Dorne to visit the Free Cities. The business had been kept private, so I didn't know what was going on there other than it being part of the plans between him, Mother, and Uncle Doran. There were a few possibilities such as hiring sellswords to retake my throne from the Usurper, closer connections to the Free Cities for their support diplomatically and economically and possibly them providing ships for one reason or another. If I were Uncle Doran, I'd be looking at foreign powers for support like many rebellions did. The Free Cities did have close ties to the Martells of Dorne because of its strategic position through the Stepstones and having lower tariffs than the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.
"That's wonderful," Rhaenys Targaryen remarked, clearly downplaying her happiness. "I cannot wait for Uncle Oberyn's return. I wish we could have met him at Planky Town or Sunspear. I know we can't. It would be improper for us considering we should remain hidden. No doubt Uncle Oberyn is tired from his voyage and . . ."
Elia smiled and reached over to touch her daughter's hand. "My brother is seldom weary to do anything, my sweet. He could never remain in one place for long and age has done little to change that. He intends to come here as soon as possible and has come bearing gifts from his travels."
"Gifts? What sort of gifts?"
Elia tapped the side of her nose. "To tell you would be to ruin it. I've perhaps ruined it already for the both of you. You'll be waiting expectedly and wondering what your uncle's given you. No doubt it's torturing you already."
"You are a cruel mother," I said good-heartedly, smiling to leave no false message. "And you are right. I will spend my days in frustration, unable to sleep until he returns."
That caused mother to laugh. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand but that didn't hide the sweet sounds she released. "I might relieve you of one frustration then, sweetling. As your mother I dislike seeing you suffer." She paused for a moment and her face straightened. The motherly smile left and in its place was the indifferent and professional mask of a Princess of Dorne. We knew at that moment that it would be improper to joke around anymore, and we should pay attention. "I have spoken to Prince Doran and the both of us have come to a decision. You are both growing older, and it would be improper to hide you away in the Water Gardens for the rest of your lives. You cannot live the rest of your lives within these walls without so much as breathing the air outside."
"You're letting us out?" Rhaenys asked, which was the exact same question I was about to pose. "But surely that's unsafe. The Usurper—"
"We are aware of Robert Baratheon and the Lannisters," Elia's voice was serious despite its softness. "But this is important. This is important for your future and I'm not only speaking as your mother but as a Princess of Dorne. Rhaenys, you will be expected to marry. We have no desire to follow the traditions of your father and, instead, you're to marry the son of a powerful lord. Who that'll be I cannot say. But the Water Gardens isn't the place to learn about managing a household and other duties expected of a future lady. I've been teaching you but that doesn't compare to real-world experience. You will join your cousins in Sunspear where you'll work alongside Arianne. She's taken up further duties as fits her rank and it'd be wise to build closer ties with the ladies of Dorne."
"But surely they'll discover everything." Rhaenys looked conflicted. I reached to touch her hand under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. "It isn't unknown for those loyal to the crown – the king's taxmen for instance – to visit and they'll realise who I am and bring that knowledge to Robert Baratheon."
"That's if they see you as Princess Rhaenys Targaryen and not some lady who's taken up service as one of Arianne's handmaidens." Elia reached over and took both her daughter's hands and smiled warmly. "I know you're concerned. I understand completely. But you'll be safe, and I know you always wanted to visit Sunspear and spend time with Arianne. You two were close when you were both here, and I know you'll be closer still. Like sisters."
Rhae's lips trembled for a moment before her emotions were brought under control by her mask. Then she nodded. A brusque and formal motion. "I will make you proud."
"I know you will, sweetling. I cannot ask for anything more from you." Elia smiled and then turned her attention to me. Her face faltered slightly. "There are similar plans for you, my son. You are at an age to be a squire."
I had a feeling about such a thing. I was twelve years old. Seven was when one became a page, and it was my age now that they became a squire. If anything, I was two years behind for a great many were made squires at the age of ten and some even before that point. I had much more to learn and, in some ways, I wasn't exactly happy with such a revelation either. A part of me wanted to leave the walls, sure, but at the same time I'd grown comfy here and another part of me was worried about joining the great wide world.
Then there are the duties. I grimaced at the thought of that.
As a squire, I'd be required to run errands for my master whoever that may be. I'd need to tend his animals and clean his weapons and armour whenever required. Cook his food, clean his clothes and, if needed, ride beside him in battle. Then there were all my lessons as well which would be different from what I was learning so far. More practical knowledge and less theoretical. A great many would-be social skills on how to treat others as a future knight. Protocol, decorum and all other manners of things.
It was all honestly a little much.
Feeling my mouth dry suddenly despite the cider I'd just drunk, I swallowed and swished saliva around my mouth though that did little but make my mouth gummy. "W-who will be my master? I-I can't be a squire without a knight to lead me. Who will it be?" My words were hushed, barely above a whisper and clumsy. It was how I'd spoken so many years ago . . .
Noticing my unease, the mask that was the Princess of Dorne threatened to shatter and allow the mother underneath to reach over and comfort me with a hand to my cheek or her fussing over my silvery curls. Her mask won out and she sent a firm smile my way. "Your uncle himself. I could trust no one else for such a burden."
"Burden?" Rhae smiled thinly at me, a perverse pleasure filling her voice. "That's one way to describe my brother."
I shot a wry look her way and Elia Martell sent her daughter a scolding look. "There is no need for that." Then she smiled with unreserved adoration at me. "I would never regard you as a burden. Don't mind her, sweetling."
"I never do," I agreed happily and when Mother went to grab another tart, I looked over at Rhae and stuck my tongue out. She snorted with an eye roll but wasn't above replicating the gesture in kind.
It was fortunate our mother was too highborn to roll her eyes for I'm sure she would have under different circumstances. "That's enough from the both of you." Her voice was warm, however. "You will be squiring for the Red Viper himself. That is something a great many young Dornishmen want, let me tell you. But like Rhaenys, your identity will be hidden. As far as the rest of the world knows, you are Oberyn's only son. A Sand Snake if you will. You will come from one of his lovers in the Free Cities which will explain your eyes though your hair will be dyed black. You will become his squire and visit the castles around Dorne to assist in building up support and he'll train you as a future knight and the king Westeros needs."
A perfect prince.
While it didn't seem to go the way I expected, my path seemed to be heading towards a variant of the Young Griff storyline. My hair would be dyed, and I'd be trained. Except it'll be in Dorne rather than the Rhoyne, and I'll have one tutor rather than several. But between all the teachers I could have, I was happy it was Oberyn. He was a skilled horseman and fighter and extremely well-educated, especially when compared to a great many lords who were illiterate. I was already ahead of them even before popping out of my mother's womb here.
Granted, there was still much for me to learn. The Westerosi didn't use the English language but had their own native tongue. A couple dozen, in fact, usually a mix of Andalic with whatever languages existed before the Andals arrived. As it happened there were the main ones and then hundreds of even more regional dialects as well. Thus, I needed to learn how to speak and write in not one but several different tongues. High Valyrian – the language of the royal courts – was the most complicated as it happened. But thankfully my mind was a sponge and absorbed everything remarkably easily. I had a nimble tongue as well, allowing me to be fluent in nearly all of them with remarkable speed.
But, anyway, back to the topic before my little digression. It seemed there were some things I just couldn't get away from regarding their similarity to canon. It made me wonder that if I – heavens forbid – had picked Jon Snow whether I'd still find myself at the Wall despite doing everything in my power to avoid freezing my balls off.
Does this universe follow the rules of narrative causality?
Looking down at the crumbs on my plate, I grimaced despite myself.
"Are you alright?" my sister asked, concern filling her voice.
I chuckled softly before looking up at her and then back to Mother. "It's just something else, y'know. Being a squire. Never been one before and it's the next step of my life. Something that shouldn't be avoided but instead embraced. I should learn a lot from it. Learn about becoming a knight and how to properly ride. I'll learn what life's like outside of the Water Gardens and maybe even Dorne."
"Not Dorne," Mother said sternly. "I will not permit Oberyn to do that."
"Inside Dorne then," I allowed, letting out a forced laugh. "It'd be nice to see. I hear so much of this land. It'd be nice to experience it. When it's time, I'll try not to upset him and fulfil my duties as a faithful squire should. I'll be the second Aegon the Fifth! If I ever run out of dye, well, I might shave my hair like my namesake."
Elia didn't like the sound of that, and she leaned over to fuss over my hair, and I did the responsible sonly duty of trying to duck my head to avoid it. "I'd rather you not do that, sweetling. Your hair's too pretty to be cut. It'd be a shame if you did. It suits you."
"Then I'll not cut it at all!" I declared.
"Then you'll have longer hair than mine," grinned Rhae. You'll look even more like a girl, her sparkling eyes seemed to say.
"And make you jealous?" I asked her teasingly.
"Oh, very," she drawled. "Every time I look upon you I ask the gods why they bless you with such curls."
"The gods must just love me," I shrugged my shoulders carelessly before flashing her a bright smile. "Whoever knows the mind of a god?" And why one seemed to have picked me of all people.
"Children," Elia interrupted our banter with her most motherly voice. If she hadn't said that there was no doubt me and Rhae would have begun another verbal battle either ending with us laughing together or avoiding each other for the rest of the day.
"Mother," I relayed. "Sorry to say this, but I do have duties I need to perform. I need to research a few things for Archmaester Marwyn, and unfortunately need to take my leave from our sup. It was very delightful, and I enjoyed both your company."
"Me too," Rhae piped up. "Though not with Archmaester Marwyn. I have promised to show Obella and Dorea which trees have the best fruit and I'm afraid if I leave them too long they might climb without me and who knows what will happen then."
"Nothing good, I'm sure." Elia smiled at us. It was slightly sad and very much heartbreaking. "Duty awaits us all, I'm afraid. Even more for those who are born to wear crowns upon their heads."
With great power comes great responsibility. Standing up, I leaned over to peck Mother's cheek. "When I'm done with my duties, I'll come and find you. Hopefully, that'll compensate for me cutting this short."
"There is no need for that."
"I'm going to do it. Not because I have to and I'm your son, but because I want to." When we got out of Mother's sight, Rhaenys shot me a pointed look and when I lightly nudged her with my shoulder, she responded by elbowing me in the side. I laughed. If Uncle Oberyn's taking me away, then he can take his sweet time. I'm in no rush.