Martyn's eyes opened with the rising of the sun. The glowing circle rose over the horizon, bathing the world in the orange light of the early dawn. The light flooded through the window in his home, covering his face and waking him from his slumber. Grumbling lightly, Martyn rolled out of his bed and rubbed his eyes. Rising to his feet, he stretched his back, groaning in relief as satisfying cracks popped along his spine and sorted out the knots.
Martyn relaxed, glad that the new bedding that they had recently acquired had helped with his stiff back. Walking over to the well-made wooden wardrobe, he pulled out a set of clothes. A rough-spun, but sturdy shirt and thick breeches covered him, with a vest to further protect against the early spring chill was his choice the that day. Satisfied he in his choice, Martyn quickly made his way out of the bedroom he shared with his wife and towards the bathing room that his new house had been built with.
Five years. It had been five years since Martyn's life had changed, alongside most of the smallfolk who had called southern Fair Isle their home. The Farmans were descent lords. Perhaps a bit stricter and more demanding than some of the mainland nobles, but it was understandable considering how their home was usually the first targets of Ironborn reavers looking to pillage the lands of more civilised peoples.
Not that the Ironborn had been mush trouble as of late. In the last five years, since the arrival of their new lords, there hadn't been a single successful raid on their shores. There had been some attempts, but they usually never made it to land, and if they did it was not long before they were well and properly subdued. Opening the door to the bathing room, Martyn gathered a pile of firewood. Quickly arranging it and adding the right amount, he reached for the large pump that was connected to their local wells. The new lords of southern Fair Isle had introduced many marvels over their five years of dominion, but Martyn appreciated this addition perhaps most of all. A few minutes of pumping began to fill the moderately sized tub with water, and a quick light with flint and steel started the fire that would warm his morning bath.
Nodding in satisfaction as the fire burned and the water surely warmed, Martyn left the bathing room, going to his family's kitchen and eating room. There was a good selection of foodstuff in their pantries. Not only was there bread and grain, important for their ability to survive the harsh cold of island winters, other foods like meats and even cheeses rested on the shelves. Quickly gathering a small selection, Martyn prepared the break his fast. He ate quickly, but savoured the rich flavour of the cheese and sausage as he ate it. Spring had come. A little later than the maesters had predicted, the false spring two years ago giving hope to the people before they were once again covered in a blanket of cold and snow.
The seasons always changed however, and no matter how long or harsh the winter, spring came and brought with it new life. The past winter had been the easiest in living memory for Martyn, his family, and their entire village. Their lords had arrived part way into the last winter, summer and autumn having long left them behind. At first, the massive cloud of dirt and the great shaking of the earth had driven many of them to madness and panic. Martyn had gathered his family in their home and prayed fervently to the seven as the storm of dust and dirt had consumed and covered their own small home. When the debris settled near an hour later, He and many of his neighbours had emerged to find something new.
Fair Isle was not the most mountainous of islands. They had some hills and ridges, with peaks that never jutted too far into the sky. However, even the mountains of the Vale would have been hard pressed to hide the massive thing that had risen in the aftermath of the world's shaking. A fortress of dull grey rock, but polished to look like the whole place was made of steel, rose high into the sky. The village elder and their septon had spent nearly three days arguing amongst themselves over what its appearance meant, and what the seven might be trying to tell them. Martyn wondered over what this strange event meant as well. This was perhaps the most direct sign the seven had sent since the days of Hugor of the Hill, and yet no one could decide whether it was an omen of good or ill fortune.
Whatever rumours might have emerged amongst the many villages over those first days, they were quickly dispelled when the strange men and women had emerged from the queer castle. They were dressed strangely, wearing dull grey or green robes and armour that didn't seem to cover enough to make them knights. They carried odd weapons without edges, and had no sword, shields or spears, but they had spoken the common tongue, and soon enough members of many of the surrounding villages were brought before the lord of the strange castle, though not within the mighty structure.
Since then, the men and woman of the castle Plataea, for that was the name of their mighty seat, had kept themselves separate but close by, engaging with the smallfolk only when they needed information. It had been not a moon afterwards that the banners of the golden lion, the lord paramount of the Westerlands, and the three ships on red, yellow and blue of their own, more local overlord had flapped in the winds. Lord Tywin Lannister was well known across the kingdoms, and even in their small village on the southern end of their island, they knew of the hand of the King.
Lord Lannister had met with the Lord of the Plataea, and in only a fortnight had dubbed him lord of all of southern Fair Isle. The Farmans had protested, threatening to raise swords and drive out the strange intruders who had been given part of their ancient holdings, but had quickly backed down, cowed it seemed by both the orders of their liege lord, and the strange men who called the Plataea their home. Even now, five years later, there was still a bitterness whenever the men-at-arms of Fair Castle would venture down south. Whatever ills might have existed, Martyn was glad for his new overlords. Plataea was a place of wonders it seemed, with maesters and scholars of greater insight than anywhere else in the world. In just the first year since their arrival, much of the damage that had occurred in their appearance was repaired. The houses of Martyn's village and many of those that surrounded Plataea had been shaken and rocked, often to near or total collapse. The men and woman, who they had learned were mostly soldiers, had aided in much of the reconstruction. The houses they built were strange; larger and sturdier, with walls made of a curious poured stone that they had explained only later.
Such grand new houses were only the beginning however. As time moved on, there was always more to be learned from the wise men of Plataea. The greatest of those, as far as Martyn had been concerned, was the building known as the schoolhouse. It was a strange place, built with large rooms with tables and desks. Plataea's lord had spread the word that they were houses for the learning of skills like reading, writing and the working of numbers. Many had been skittish at the idea of sending their children away to those 'schoolhouses' for it meant losing hands to work their fields.
It was surely part of their plan then, Martyn believed, that the next creation to leave the Plataea after their new houses, was a plough meant to make easier the tilling of fields and knowledge on how better to space and grow their crops. With winter's chill still swirling around them, there was little chance to test their theories, but during the false spring, some of the farmers had tried the new ploughs and methods, if for no other reason than to not disobey their new lords who could exact punishment if their will was not followed.
To the shock of many, though in hindsight Martyn wondered why they had ever thought their lords might try and doom them to famine, the new inventions and the new methods that had come alongside them had worked. More than worked, they had exceeded all expectations. By the end of the false spring, near every farm south and west of Plataea used both their new tools, and new ideas. More and more of the north and eastern farms had joined them since the beginning of the new year and the coming of spring, but there was still some tension near the border between the two island lords and so farms on both sides had been slow to adopt the new ideas of the lords of the south.
The war had brought them even more prosperity, as little sense as that should make. The Westerlands had never called its banners. Declaring for neither the royals or rebels until late in the war, and so Martyn, his family and his village had only prospered.
Some of the people of villages with fields buried under the new castle Plataea had taken shelter in its shadow. The people that had come from the castle had worked over the years to expand it, creating a smaller, more normal settlement.
Of course, normal was relative. The settlement of the Platea was grand by any and every judgment, save for when it was compared to the home they had come from. None of the buildings reached even half the hight of their castle, but grew higher into the air with almost frightening speed. More than once when he had passed near to the walls of the settlement, he had worried whether the ever-growing towers of stone would collapse, so quick was their construction.
The villagers who had abandoned their old homes, having lost both house and field, had been rebuilding along the stone walls that formed a border between the Plataea's second keep and that of the common people. The division reminded Martyn very much of stories of Lannisport and Old Town, which were both built in the shadow of great fortifications like the Rock and the Hightower.
This new village had quickly become a town as many of the people of Fair Isle had been drawn to the massive landmark. The settlement had at first been nameless as those that had formed it had come from at least four villages with different names. After a few days of debate and argument, the elders and headsmen from the different villages had gone to one of Plataea's guards to solve the issue. Standing atop a newly risen wall of strange poured stone the strange guardsman had at first been confused when asked what they might name their new village. A few hours later, after the guard had called others over and started a hushed conversation with some other guardsmen and women, they had been given a name.
'Onyx.'
It was an odd name. By all accounts, Martyn didn't think that there was any of the black and white crystal on the island to inspire such a name, but it had quickly stuck for being simple and memorable. Onyx as a settlement had only grown in the four years since the arrival of their new lords. At first it had consisted of about those people of the four villages who had formed it, being barely big enough to be called a town. With the aid of their new overlords, and the near constant stream of new members from villages and towns all over the southern side of the island, it had transformed. If the houses and buildings built for outlying villages like Martyn's had been grand compared to what they had before, then what was built for the residents of Onyx was near lordly. Grand manors that looked more fitting for landed knights were distributed to near every family. Some of the more important figures in the burgeoning town, such as the new mayor, had their home closer to the wall separating Plataea from Onyx, but for the most part the prosperity was equally distributed.
Checking in on the bathroom, Martyn sighed as he saw that the fire had run its course, leaving behind a few glowing embers, and a tub full of steaming water. Testing the heat, he smiled and disrobed, lowering himself into the soothing water and letting the heat wash away the last of the tension from his muscles. Reaching to the side, he picked up one of the fine smelling soaps that he had bought at market; another joyous invention to thank the lord of Plataea for, and set about cleaning himself for the day ahead.
The sound of the door creaking open drew his attention, and Martyn's face broke into a smile as his wife Delia stepped inside. His wife of twenty-six years quickly disrobed as well, getting into the tub with him and sending some of the water spilling over the edges. Chuckling lightly, Martyn wrapped his arms around Delia's waist, pulling her close and helping her to lather the soap along her body and into her hair. His wife loved her hair, a bright blonde that looked like spun gold under the right light, and when the soaps had been brought to sale at the market she had been down-right feral when engaging the throng of people hoping to get what they could.
"How are the children?" He asked, using a small bucket next to the tub to scoop up some water and rinse the soap from Delia's hair.
"Loren and Devan are still sleeping." She told him, wiping water from her eyes. "Tyana was awake when I went to check on her, reading that book of words again."
Martyn frowned at the hesitance in his wife's voice. Unlike him, who had been more than keen about sending his children to the local 'schoolhouse' during the winter. Delia had been nervous over letting them go for so long each day, to say nothing of having them learn to read, write, and use numbers.
"She's always been a curious one." He tried to sooth her.
"The world is dangerous." Delia argued back. "This 'schoolhouse' and all the things they are teaching her. What if our children start thinking the world is as kind as our new lords have been?"
"We will still be there to temper them." Martyn reassured. "And think on it. If all the lands under Platea's view are so kind as ours have now become, our children will do well learning all that their teachers have taught them."
"Perhaps." She sighed, leaning back into Martyn's chest and lathering her arms in soap. "I just hope that Lord Terra's new proclamations do not bring some unforeseen trouble.
Together, the two finished their time in the bath, drying themselves and dressing before leaving to wake their sons and give their daughter her turn in the bath. Summer was once again upon them, and they would need the help of their children to get the farm running smoothly before it came time to plant and prepare for the next harvest.
It was Elia's last day in the lands of the Terras. Early that morning, Lord Kurt had informed her that they had fully planned out Elia, Ashara, and their children's returns. That evening, they would be brought under the cover of night to a predetermined spot within a half-day's journey from Starfall. From there they would be escorted to the castle where Oberyn, Doran and Arthur would be waiting for them. Elia had chafed at the fact that their stay amongst the Terras had lasted a full week longer than planned, but Lord Kurt had informed her the delay was so that her and Ashara's brothers would be at Starfall within a day of their own arrival, so better to escort Elia and her children back to Sunspear.
Of course, just because the delay was unwelcome didn't mean the stay was unpleasant. The Terras catered well to her needs and those of their other former hostages. Hazel had become her permanently assigned spartan guard and because of her imminent release, she was allowed to explore far more of New Currahee and the attached settlement made up of Westerosi common men. Elia found that she enjoyed New Currahee more than Onyx, for it was bigger, the buildings taller, and with far more of the strange accommodations that the Terras called normal but were to her impossibly lavish. If there was one thing she would miss about her time at Plataea, it would be the beverages. Young Viserys had already developed a taste for a drink called Cola. Rhaella had been terrified when Viserys had described the feeling of sizzling and popping in his mouth when he had first tried it, and quickly banned him from partaking in his new favourite thing. Rhaella had been stubborn, unusually so, about making sure her son had as little of the strange beverage as possible, but had unknowingly opened the door for Jane to emerge as the prince's source to acquire the illicit drink. The young prince, who had already looked at the spartan woman with some degree of awe, now sought her out at every opportunity, presenting any good deed or finished lesson he might have done for the day as a reason for his mother's guard to treat him to a glass of Cola.
Elia had properly laughed when she, Ashara and Rhaella had returned from a trip to the glass dome to find Viserys and Jane sitting together, at least a half dozen bottles of the banned drink between them, and Viserys looking as if he was about to burst from all the energy.
Elia had made sure to drink some of it with Hazel, who had accompanied her on her final trip through New Currahee, though she preferred the lime cola, for it had a citrusy taste that reminded her of the lemons and oranges of her home. Leaning back in the chair at the strange 'restaurant' which Hazel had explained was like an inn or tavern, but had no rooms for guests to stay in. She had been allowed to eat outside of Plataea, for it was her last day and Lord Kurt saw no harm in allowing her some extra freedoms. She had lunched on a meal of pasta, mixed with a green sauce called 'pesto' that she found herself greatly enjoying.
"There's so much to see here." Elia absently conversed with Hazel as she looked up at one of the towers, jutting high in the air and topped with a crane that was bringing materials to the top of another tower building.
"I feel as if I could spend a hundred years learning what everything here is and I'd still need ten times that to discover how it all works."
"I understand." Hazel replied. "I've always loved learning. Eternal Spring always used to give me extra history work whenever I asked."
Elia tried to ignore the strange name.
"If history is your passion Hazel, I assure you that Dorne could provide you with more to explore than you could ever ask."
Hazel smiled.
"I appreciate the offer Ms. Elia, but the captain doesn't want us to move about without backup, and I don't think you'd want one of our teams squatting in your castle."
Hazel was not wrong. The thought of an any group of Lord Kurt's fearsome soldiers living in the same castle, or even in the same kingdom, as her and her children sent a shiver up her spine. She had hoped that Hazel, after some time, might be amenable to entering into her service and leaving that of Lord Kurt. It seemed that that plan would not be coming to fruition today, or any time in the future. Even still, Elia hoped that after spending a good amount of time guarding her, Hazel might come to see her and her children in a similar way to how Jane saw Rhaella and Viserys. Hazel already had a soft spot for Rhaenys, who at nearly three years of age was beginning to grasp just how big New Currahee and Plataea were. Her little sun loved spending time in the glass dome, looking out over the growing settlements, seeing caravans of smallfolk work their way across the lands to find new chances and opportunity in Onyx. The fields that surrounded Plataea were beginning to grow green with new stalks and growth. The first harvests of the summer had filled the land with vibrant colours as flowers bloomed and crops were sowed and harvested. Seeing such masses of farmland cultivated from above was a humbling experience, and Elia found she enjoyed watching to progress of the food's growth over the last weeks.
What interest Hazel had in Rhaenys was mostly saved for her daughter. Hazel seemed to care little for Aegon, not that Elia could fully blame her. Aegon was just a babe, still learning to babble and speak in more than halting sentences. Elia of course found her son's futile attempts at conversation adorable, but she didn't expect her guard who seemed so interested in knowledge and discussion to be as interested in a squalling babe.
A small noise sounded from Hazel's wrist, signalling to both of them that they were required to return to the Plataea to ready Elia for her departure. Even as the evening approached Elia knew that the sun wouldn't set for a few hours yet, but she would need to be fully packed and ready to leave with the falling of night. There wasn't much for her to prepare. The Terras had supplied her with clothes and other necessities, but given the length of her stay there hadn't been enough time for her to accumulate an amount that would make storing them difficult. Truthfully the things that were taking up most of the space in the trunk provided to her were toys and other items meant for her children. Rhaenys had become as obsessed with the toys the Terras gave as Viserys had become with Cola, to say nothing of how much of Aegon's attention their brightly coloured and decorated gifts took up.
As the sun lowered beyond the horizon, leaving the entire world to be illuminated by the light of the moon and stars. The entire world, save for the Plataea. Elia stood in the same room she had been brought from when she had first arrived at the Plataea. Just like that day, which felt so recent, but at the same time like it had happened in a different life, the interior was lit with hundreds and thousands of bright lights from the ceiling. Another of the Terra's strange metal carriages sat in front of them, the back compartment open to allow them to enter. Already the trunks meant to hold her possessions, as well as those of Ashara and their children were stores safely, and now she was the only one of them who had not embarked.
Elia embraced Rhaella, wishing her good-mother a fond farewell and a promise for her return upon Rhaella's wedding.
"I will miss you my lovely." Rhaella said, smiling fondly. "Take care of your children and I'm sure you will find all the happiness in the world when you return home."
"Thank you." Elia clung to the woman who had made the Red Keep tolerable during Aerys' reign.
"I promise. I will be back for your wedding, and please, if there is anything amiss, tell me. I do not know how much I would be able to do, but I would be no true good-daughter if I did not offer at least an ear to hear your worries."
"I will see about sending ravens to Dorne." Rhaella said. "But I am unsure whether there is a rookery in the castle."
"We can work something out." Jane said, standing about five paces away from where Elia and Rhaella embraced.
Releasing her good-mother, Elia embarked into the flying carriage, casting a last look at the former queen as she waved a sombre goodbye.
"All passengers, make sure to take your seats and fasten harnesses."
A calm voice sounded throughout the compartment, and Elia took her seat at the open wall of the carriage closed, sealing them inside. There was a shift, and Elia felt her stomach lurch as they took to the air. She had been in this sort of carriage a total of four times so far, and each time she felt the same upset in her stomach. Quickly she took several deep breaths and drunk from a bottle provided for her. Sickness when flying through the air was apparently a common thing, and the maesters of the Plataea had devised a potion to settle the stomachs of those who were afflicted with the condition.
Elia closed her eyes, leaning back into her seat as much as she could with its unyielding metal frame. Her muscles tensed, even as the movement of the flying carriage smoothed and her stomach settled. The only thing was keeping her from acting as nervous as she felt was the knowledge that she was going back home. In but a few hours, she and Ashara and their children would be in Starfall. She hesitated to call them safe, for she was fairly sure that even after the soldiers of the Plataea left her and hers amongst her people, they could still get to them whenever it might become necessary.
Shaking her head, she tried to banish those thoughts from her head. It would do her no good to worry forever over something that might never become relevant. Lord Kurt had assured her that barring rebellion against the new dynasty, she and her family had nothing to fear from him or his spartans and the man had so far been nothing but truthful when making dealings of any sort. The soft shaking of their carriage provided a rhythm for Elia to distract herself with. Focusing on the thrumming and vibrations, Elia let her mind wander from where she was to where she was going. In a matter of hours, she and her loved ones would be back amongst the sun and sand of Dorne, and it was her hope that with the new peace that had just been established, she would never have to interact with Lord Terra outside of his impending marriage to Rhaella.
It's christmas time, and time for more chapters, I will hopefully have chapters for every week this month, so look forwards to that.