~Author's Note~
Because so many people kept asking about bloodlines I've made a change. Torrhen is still a Necrarch, Lyanna is still a Blood Dragon, but Torrhen's house name has been changed to Telvanni. Neither one of them has ever been a von Carstein but the name was confusing some people thinking that referred to his or her actual bloodline rather than just be a name he picked. Hopefully that clears things up.
Chapter 26
~Tyrion Lannister~
When Lord Telvanni returned from White Harbor he brought with him a throng of Dornish, including the Red Viper. It was exceedingly stressful on Tyrion. While he liked to think that even a people known for being quick to anger wouldn't be so stupid as to violate guest right under such a powerful lord, it was no longer just himself that Tyrion was responsible for. As a husband he had a duty to ensure his wife's safety and so had requested a guard for as long as the Dornish were in the Dreadfort.
Tyrion had been given Oswell, a seemingly unremarkable guard despite the man being one of the few undead that was still capable of thought. It was only after Gerold came up to discuss temporarily taking over Oswell's other duties that Tyrion realized who the pair were. Lord Telvanni had some of the former Kingsguard, the best knights in all of the Seven Kingdoms, working for him. It hadn't even occurred to the dwarf to wonder what had happened with the Kingsguard following the war but if they had been killed by someone that could raise the dead, of course they would be made use of. Their skill in arms wasn't something that should be wasted.
And now Tyrion was in Lord Telvanni's solar, alone with a Dornish girl. Not just any Dornish girl, but Oberyn Martell's daughter. The two of them were to be students in magic, learning together.
Assuming she doesn't find a way to murder me in the coming years.
Between her blonde hair and name, Tyene, Tyrion was beginning to suspect this was all one big joke by the gods. She was a Lannister in all but name and, given the Red Viper's proclivities, it was very possible she actually was related to Tyrion in some way, the daughter of some distant cousin.
If she manages to kill me, the irony would be so prominent it might even make Father smile. He'd still send assassins to return the insult, of course.
Tyrion left thoughts of his potential death behind as he gazed around the room. How a lord chose to decorate their solar typically offered insight into their minds, indicating both what they valued and what they wanted to present to visitors. Some hung trophies from hunts, to show off their skill. Others accumulated works of art, to indicate that they had the excess coin to spend on such luxuries. Tyrion knew quite a few Westerland lords chose to display whatever items they had managed to grab during the sack of King's Landing. His own father went a different direction, the Lord of the Rock's solar was properly gilded of course, he had to show off the wealth from the mines, but it was primarily filled with books. Not fictional books or histories written by maesters, but useful books, taxes ledgers, current information on his vassals.
It seemed Lord Telvanni's solar was, at one point, similar to Tywin Lannister's, bookcases adorned most of the walls but majority of the shelves were bare. A few things jumped out at Tyrion however. The first being the breastplate hanging above the room's sole window. Not only was the piece of armor positively enormous but it had a fist sized hole through the middle of it.
Only Krell is big enough to wear something like that. Is that how he died? But what caused that? Was he gored by an auroch horn?
The second item was a long, slender sword with a slight curve to it occupying the top shelf of an otherwise unused bookcase.
There's barely any hilt on that, it would be useless for catching an opponent's blade.
And then there was the enormous banner stretched across the ceiling, white and red stripes with white stars inside a corner of blue. It was not an emblem Tyrion recognized.
Though it must be important to him if he had it made. His former sellsword company perhaps? I'll have to write to Jaime about it.
Tyrion caught a whiff of burning sourleaf seconds before one of the bookcases on the wall swung open and their host stepped out, a pair of books in his arms. The smell was coming from the 'cigar' Lord Telvanni had in his mouth, smoke flowing out every time he breathed.
"I was half expecting you two to be waiting out in the hall," he said as he sat down at his desk.
While Tyrion tried to puzzle that out Tyene spoke, "You said to meet you in your solar and Krell let me in when I arrived. Was I not supposed to come in, my lord?"
She didn't react to his face, which means she already knew about it. How much do the Martells know about him and what have they told her?
Lord Telvanni shook his head. "Nah, I'm just so used to people being timid around me that this is a nice change of pace. Also, when we're alone you can just call me Torrhen, no need to stand on pomp and circumstance."
"Very well. . . Torrhen."
"Excellent, same to you Tyrion. 'Lord Telvanni' is such a mouthful." He grinned, showing off all those pointed teeth. "There's a joke to be made there but let's get to the reason you two are here."
"Magic," Tyrion and Tyene said at the same time.
"Correct. But before you can build a castle you need to make sure you have a good foundation or it will crumble. Magic is the same, thus: a history lesson. How familiar are you two with the Long Night?"
Tyrion hadn't been expecting that but it seems Tyene had because she answered immediately, "It was a period of time during the Age of Heroes, approximately eight thousand years before the Conquest. During a long winter, Westeros was cast into darkness and the Others invaded from the north. The children of the forest and the First Men eventually drove them back and built the Wall and established the Night's Watch."
Torrhen nodded. "You mentioned the Others, what do you know of them?"
Knowing he couldn't sit here quietly and let the Sand Snake get all the attention, Tyrion quickly started listing what he knew, "They're regarded as myth and legend in the south, children's tales. I remember in 'Lies of the Ancients', Archmaester Fomas speculated that the Others were just a tribe of First Men who had been living in the far north and that the Long Night pressured them to migrate south. That, over the years, the tales became more and more monstrous, to make the Starks and Night's Watch seem more heroic." Tyrion paused. "But if you're asking about them I'm assuming that's not correct."
Puffing on his cigar, Torrhen raised an eyebrow. "The Wall is three hundred miles long and over five hundred feet tall. You don't build something that big to keep out wildlings."
Fuck, I was trying to impress and instead I just look stupid.
"Doesn't 'Lies of the Ancients' contain a lot of errors?" Tyene asked. "I'd have thought you'd dismiss it given that it makes clearly false statements about the founding of Valyria. I'm reasonably sure it gets several lineal claims wrong in both the Reach and the Westerlands as well."
"I haven't read it so I can't comment either way," Torrhen said. "I am surprised that both of you are familiar with it though."
"Outside of my family, my only real friends have been books," Tyrion answered. "Casterly Rock has a large library but I still managed to work my way through at least half of it."
Tyene seemed like she didn't want to answer until Torrhen's white eyes focused on her. She looked at her lap as she answered, "Prince Doran had every book House Martell owned that related to the North, magic, or myths sent with me. I had to read them all during the ride from Sunspear to White Harbor."
"Nothing wrong with that, good sense really, considering you're coming from a very different culture with different stories and knowledge." Tyene looked up in surprise, prompting Torrhen to continue, "What, were you expecting me to chastise you for being proactive and trying to learn in preparation for your apprenticeship?"
Judging from her stuttering and inability to form a sentence, that was exactly what she had expected. Tyrion knew her concern wasn't entirely unfounded, for all that Aegon had united Westeros under one ruler, there was still considerable tensions between the various kingdoms. A Dornishman and a Northman are going to have two very different sets of biases when teaching the history of the North.
"Regardless," Torrhen said. "The Others were real and not human. They were, well, other. And while the Starks were instrumental in rallying people during the Long Night, they were not the only House to have an impact. One of the Red Kings of House Bolton, Royce son-of-Royce who himself fathered-a-Royce but I don't know which because the fuckers didn't write down any numbers, captured an Other. They were trying to figure out how it did magic. This is the account of the interrogation." Torrhen patted the two books on his desk.
"Those books are that old?" Tyene asked.
"Oh, of course not. They would have disintegrated as soon as I touched them if they were original. Also, they'd have been in the Old Tongue, which I don't know. This is a translated copy of a copy of a copy of a - you get the idea." Torrhen grabbed one of the books and picked it up, waving it for emphasis. "The point is though, this is how I started down the path of becoming a mage. The other is a copy I made so you'd each have one."
He learned magic from a book the Boltons possessed? But he wasn't granted the Dreadfort until after the Rebellion. That doesn't line up.
Tyene stared at the book with a confused look on her face. "Why were you able to become so powerful while the Boltons were not?"
"Excellent question." Torrhen carefully set the book next to its duplicate. "The Boltons were never able to figure magic out, couldn't get even a simple spell to work. Royce concluded that it was because the magic was inherent to Others and not something humans were capable of, a reasonable assumption for the man to make." Torrhen tapped a finger against his temple. "But only because he didn't have the knowledge I did. He couldn't understand what the Other meant when it spoke of the Winds, Dhar, corruption, or the seven parts of life. Too many unfamiliar terms, untranslatable words."
Tyene frowned. "Where did you learn about winds and - uh, corruption and the Seven?"
I'd like to know that as well.
"Read about it when I was younger, I thought it was all made up and didn't put much thought into it at the time. It was actually so long ago that I had completely forgotten about it. Wasn't until I was looking through this book and I saw what the Other had said that it started to come back to me. And even then only in bits and pieces. Hell, was only last week that I remembered Orcs are a fungus."
Tyrion decided to ignore whatever kind of mushroom Torrhen had remembered and asked for clarification about the whole story. "So your prior knowledge, combined with what the Other revealed, is why you can do everything you do?"
Torrhen wasn't frowning as he gave several drags on his cigar but Tyrion got the impression he hadn't appreciated the question.
Why is it every time I open my mouth in this conversation I screw up?
Eventually, Torrhen spoke, "That is not an inaccurate statement but it feels a little dismissive. It took a lot of trial and error before my skill with magic became what it is today."
Yeah, definitely screwed up.
"Besides which," Torrhen continued. "While I was familiar with what the Other disclosed, I did not understand everything. For example: I thought necromancy was created by Nagash after he interrogated some dark elves, but obviously that couldn't be the case here because not-Egypt and the elves don't exist. Furthermore, while the Other's magic is very similar to necromancy, it is also different because they have access to the ice powers of not-Russia which I think came from their bear-god, who also doesn't exist here. On the other hand, the Winds of Magic do exist and I can access them and if that's the case then Chaos and the Warp must exist which has very concerning implications."
Torrhen finished speaking and stared at the two of them, as if expecting Tyrion and Tyene to have followed that rambling monologue. I understood most of those words individually, but all together that might as well have been a speech from the Mad King.
"That. . . probably didn't make much sense," Torrhen said when neither of the blonds spoke. "But think of it as proof for why the Boltons couldn't access magic. There was so much they didn't know that they had no clue on where to even start. It would be like trying to teach a baby how to ride a horse when they haven't figured out how to stand up and walk yet."
I was able to follow that at least. Judging from her nodding head, Tyene had as well.
Torrhen took the cigar out of his mouth and put it down on a small plate before pushing the two books forward on his desk. "The way I tried to teach magic to Lyanna was how I prefer to learn: a lecture followed by a practical demonstration. Given how poorly that went, I will be trying a different method with the two of you. To start: you will read the entirety of the book, cover to cover, and take notes on anything that catches your interest. We will then have an entire afternoon in which you two will direct the conversation. So if something you read was confusing or seemed important, we will spend as much time on it as you wish. How's that sound?"
Strange. Torrhen was exceedingly different from not only Tyrion's father but near every other man he had met. Sure, his uncles had always treated Tyrion well but he had seen how they acted around people in their charge, wards and squires. Men commanded and those under them leapt to obey. Mayhaps it's because he's a sellsword and not a real noble? Though, how much of a dogshit company was he a part of that they didn't enforce discipline?
"That sounds fine to me," Tyene said as she reached forward and picked one of the books up.
Not wanting to argue, Tyrion nodded but didn't bother moving. He knew with the current positions of the chair and the book on the desk that he'd have to really lean forward to reach it and he might fall and make a spectacle of himself. He'd grab it when it came time to get up and leave.
"Good, good. Before we get too deep into all this though, I have something important to tell both of you." Torrhen snapped fingers on both hands and pointed one at Tyrion and the other at Tyene "Gimmie eye contact. I am not exaggerating when I say your lives will be at stake for this next bit."
Tyene's gaze snapped up from the book in her lap. Tyrion's attention had not wavered like his competitor but he nonetheless kept it focused on their teacher.
"I mentioned Chaos a bit ago. I wasn't referring to the abstract sense of it, the lack of law and order, I meant physical embodiments of it. The demons and the four Chaos Gods."
Who? I suppose you could count the Drowned God and the Storm God as chaotic. Uh. . . the Black Goat of Qohor? Pretty sure it gets daily sacrifices.
"I will not utter their names, it might draw their attention and I can assure you that we don't want that, but I will give you this warning." Torrhen stood up from his chair, his hands coming down on his desk with a heavy thump. "If I catch either of you worshiping the Blood God, the Plague Father, the Warp Chicken, or the Horny Pervert, I will kill you myself, your family connections and consequences be damned. I will not allow that kind of evil into this you both understand?"
He's a religious fanatic, Tyrion realized. Like the Septons that call Northmen heathens for worshiping the Old Gods. The only difference is the gods he's picked to hate are complete unknowns.
"I faithfully follow the Seven," Tyene answered, her tone perfectly innocent.
Too innocent. What is she planning?
"I've never even heard of those gods before, I see no reason why I'd worship one of them," Tyrion said.
Tyene had a smile on her face that put Tyrion ill at ease. "My father might enjoy following the ah, Horny Pervert. Most men would, I imagine."
"Do not mention the Chaos Gods to anyone. If they haven't yet turned their gaze on Westeros we should consider that a blessing. The only reason I informed you both is because, as wielders of magic, you are more likely to draw their attention. You'll be better prepared to resist them with forewarning. But the more people that know the more likely someone will do something stupid and try to contact them."
"You have my word I shall speak of this to no one," Tyrion said solemnly.
"Mine as well."
Tyrion didn't believe Tyene's promise for even a moment.
"Good." Torrhen sat back down in his chair and picked up his cigar. "You're both children in my eyes, I'd feel bad about killing you but I'd do it if I had to. The taint of Chaos cannot be underestimated."
By the Gods. Tyrion swallowed thickly as he resisted turning his head to look at his fellow apprentice. That's her plan. She doesn't have to harm me herself at all. If she can make it seem like I worship one of the Chaos Gods, Torrhen will take my head himself. His mind jumped back to the wildling in the dungeon. Or maybe he'll drink me dry.
"I think that should cover things for now. Unless either of you have any immediate questions?" When Tyene and Tyrion both shook their heads, Torrhen continued, "Very well, then I shall see you both in - hmmm, let's say seven days."
Torrhen hopped off the chair and grabbed his version of the book off the desk while Tyene simply stood up. The pair offered their teacher a quick bow.
As they were walking out of the solar Tyrion heard Torrhen speak softly, clearly more to himself than to either of them, "All this because I got bored and created a bloated corpse, least I was more careful after that."
~Arianne Martell~
The Telvanni lands were queer, which was to be expected given they were ruled over by a sorcerer, but that was part of the problem, they were queer because they weren't queer. Lord Telvanni could command the dead to rise, he had immense magical power available to him, and yet the holdings seemed so ordinary. If she ignored the skeletons she had spotted acting as laborers, the trip from White Harbor to the Dreadfort had been no different than any other journey. Even now, Arianne could look out a window and see smallfolk caring for animals and tending to crops, like any other place in the Seven Kingdoms. She had been expecting more overt displays of magic.
Granted, once arriving at the castle she discovered there was some mysticism if you were willing to go looking. Lyanna's lady-in-waiting, Arya, had happily shown off a room in which rows of fish were displayed on a wall and could sing on command. Uncle Oberyn had mentioned an hourglass in the library filled with bone dust that ran upwards but was otherwise perfectly serviceable for keeping time. All the sconces in the hallways were skeletal hands that had actually been put there by the Dreadfort's former ruling house, the Boltons, but Lord Telvanni had enchanted them so if you asked any for directions they would point you where to go. Soves should have been included in that list but the undead beast was nowhere to be seen, having been sent away by Lord Telvanni prior to his leaving for White Harbor. It was all interesting but now that Arianne had been here for a while she was firmly of the opinion that the little magic in the Dreadfort didn't make up for how dreary the North was.
It's too cold, the food is bland, and clothing choices are basically non-existent. Everything is either drab colors or fur. Why would anyone choose to live here?
Some of the locals had sparred against several of her Dornish guards in the yard a few days ago, the Northmen had bragged that by growing up in such a cold land made them into 'real' men. Arianne found that claim ridiculous; Dorne was a harsh climate and, unlike the North, had resisted the Targaryens because of it. As far as she was concerned anyone that was proud of being from the North was lying to themselves, trying to make a bad thing look good.
I bet wildlings are proud of living in a frozen hellscape north of the Wall. People are just incapable of seeing flaws in their homelands.
Arianne wasn't normally one for such thoughts but the fact of the matter was she was bored. Tyene was reading a book about an Other that Lord Telvanni had given her, it was the first step to learning magic apparently. At first Arianne had been right beside her cousin, the pair looking over it together, but it was so repetitive. Royce Bolton asked a question, the Other gave an answer, Royce asked the same question a different way, the Other gave a different answer, Royce asked why the answer was different. There was no hero, no plot, no story, it was just a list of questions and answers with occasional observations about some action of the Other. How anyone could learn magic from that, Arianne had no idea. She had decided she would wait for Tyene to learn some magic and then learn it from her, rather than this long method Lord Telvanni was using.
I'm still not sure it isn't just a method of stalling. I think he just doesn't want to teach Tyene while the rest of us are still here.
Any romantic notions the princess of Dorne had held about Lord Telvanni were pretty firmly gone at this point. When she had first arrived at the Dreadfort, Arianne had hoped for a chance to spend some time alone with Torrhen (he had told her to call him by his first name on the trip from White Harbor so she had taken that as a good sign) but after the first few days here, she realized she had misjudged the situation. He had only said that because he was informal with practically everyone, eschewing titles whenever possible. She had even overheard one of the smallfolk in the kitchens greet him with a nickname.
Though how and why he got saddled with something like Lord Dracula, I'll never know.
Being friendly with people wasn't a bad thing, Arianne could have easily adjusted to how the Lord of the Dreadfort managed his smallfolk. But everything about him seemed like he was trying to make himself unappealing. He was ugly to an unhealthy degree, always smelled of burnt sourleaf, and seemingly desired to be a recluse whenever he wasn't acting as a lord. The man had a remarkable ability to disappear whenever Arianne or any of her family were trying to find him.
The best way to get a meeting with Torrhen, her mother had discovered, was to ask Lady Lyanna. The Stark woman seemed to be able to sniff out wherever Torrhen was. The weirdest location she had found him was beneath a cart in the stables, carving strange symbols into the underside of the wood with his fingers.
That was why Arianne was currently watching Lady Lyanna duel one of the Telvanni guards in the yard, so that when the spar was over she could ask for directions to Torrhen. It wasn't that Arianne thought she'd succeed in getting a marriage proposal, or that she even wanted it at this point, but she had nothing to do and for all his flaws, Lord Telvanni wasn't a boring conversationalist. Weird and sometimes hard to keep focused, yes, but not boring.
While her two oldest cousins were both quite capable of fighting if need be, Arianne had not spent any time training with a weapon so she could only really judge a person's skill based on what she heard other people say. Did someone win because of a dirty trick or because they were actually a better swordsmen? She couldn't tell that sort of thing, she lacked the necessary knowledge. Today was the exception though.
Lyanna Stark had been taking on every single challenger and she had yet to lose. Most men hadn't been able to last five minutes, not even Ser Castiel, a man Uncle Oberyn had praised as a fine warrior. She was simply too fast, the training sword practically whistled in her hands as it cut through the air. Her current opponent seemed to be the first person able to keep up, he hadn't made any moves to attack but he was successfully holding his ground.
I'll have to get his name after this. That helmet completely covers his face so I have no idea who he is.
The crowd of people watching had grown each time Lady Stark had won. And after each win Arianne had noticed money changing hands. It had mainly been her own people losing coin, she knew. Of course the local Northmen would bet on their own just as, of course, the Dornish would bet on their own. But now that Lady Stark was dueling another resident of the Dreadfort the bets had been a bit more mixed as to who was supporting who.
A gasp went through the crowd as the nameless guard suddenly stepped backward, Lady Stark overextending a thrust, and he brought the pommel of his sword down on her wrist, causing her to drop her weapon. Before she could try to recover it, she had the tip of his blade under her chin.
"Damn, you got me. I yield, Oswell."
The statement caused the crowd to erupt in a combination of cheers and groans.
Arianne hurriedly approached the pair while everyone else was exchanging money and discussing the bout. She wanted to talk to Lady Stark before she was challenged to another fight.
The man, whose name Arianne was now committing to memory, chuckled as he bent down to retrieve the training sword. "You got yourself. I merely waited till you made a mistake."
Lyanna huffed. "I was getting impatient."
"Obviously." The man's tone was so calm Arianne almost took it for mocking.
"You really are a terrible conversationalist."
"Obviously," he repeated as he walked off without a dismissal.
Arianne was dumbfounded. It took her several seconds to collect her thoughts. "I realize he beat you but you are still a noble! I've seen men sentenced to the gallows that displayed more respect!"
"That's just how Oswell is. He's. . ." Lyanna trailed off for a moment. "Becoming sworn to House Telvanni required him to ask himself questions, and he wasn't satisfied with the answers. I doubt he ever fully will be."
Furrowing her brow, Arianne tried to wrap her head around that and found that she couldn't. "I'm not sure I understand."
"It would not be my place to say anything more, Princess."
While she reflexively wanted to pout, Arianne fought back the urge. She knew doing such a thing would make her appear childish and be more easily dismissed. "Very well. Do you know where our host is?"
Who thought up the design of that helm? Outside of her armor, Lady Stark was friendly yet firm, exactly the kind of noblewoman Arianne aspired to be. But in it, particularly with her face hidden by that unusual, dark helmet, Lady Stark was intimidating. She could have had a pleasant smile on her face for all Arianne knew but being stared at by that metal 'face' was simply unnerving.
Fortunately for Arianne's nerves, Lyanna soon spoke, "Your mother requested a private meeting with him, I believe."
Oh, that would explain why I hadn't seen her in a while. "That sounds important, I suppose I shall not bother him then."
"Any particular reason you wished to speak with Torrhen?"
"He is not unpleasant company," Arianne said truthfully. "He possesses a wide range of knowledge that is usually entertaining to listen to."
Again, Lady Stark seemed to silently stare at her from behind that ominous mask before speaking, "Would you like to accompany me to the Godswood, Princess? I could use a spot to relax after the fights and it would give us privacy to talk."
"I would be delighted to."
The pair managed to escape the crowd of people with minimum effort and were soon seated in front of a large heart tree.
While there was a godswood back home, it was really more a garden with some trees than a place of worship. Weirwoods did not last long in the heat of Dorne, something Arianne was grateful for now that she had spent time in the North. Trees should not have eyes.
Lady Stark clearly did not share Arianne's unease, leaning against the white bark the Northerner let out a long breath. "Now that we are alone, we can drop the titles and speak frankly, if that is fine with you, Arianne?"
"Yes, Lyanna, it is."
"Good. Then would you tell me the real reason you want to speak to Torrhen?"
Arianne blinked in surprise. That's not speaking frankly, that's being blunt. I guess Northerners really are savages in some respect, to just accuse me of lying like that. "I meant what I said, he's interesting."
Arianne silently cursed Lyanna for not removing the helm despite the fact that they were alone, it was just impossible to tell what she was thinking.
"You Dornish aren't as subtle as you think you are. I'm aware of the reputation the North has but we aren't actually stupid. Your family wants Torrhen's magic and won't stop at just an apprentice. If he was married I'd fear for the health of his wife with the Red Viper here."
Arianne squawked in outrage at the slander against her family. "Do not insult my uncle!"
"It is not an insult to say Oberyn Martell is accomplished with poison," Lyanna responded, her voice calm. "In any other circumstance, I'd actually enjoy his company. He was quite good at getting me to relax when I was pregnant in Sunspear. But it is abundantly clear what you were brought along for, a prize to entice him for marriage. If you were older and Torrhen wasn't so. . . Torrhen it would probably have a good chance of working."
Not knowing what to say to that, Arianne defaulted to something her mother had once told her and stayed quiet. When in a courtly battle it was, at times, better to let the other side talk and wait for them to slip up.
"I underestimated Torrhen," Lyanna continued, "I can admit that, but I've seen what he can accomplish when he puts his mind to it, the changes he's made to his hold, the magical might he can bring to bear, the martial strength of the dead. But one thing he doesn't care about, has never cared about, is political power. Because of that, it's become my duty to look out for him, to make sure he's not taken advantage of. A large part of that is making sure he finds the right bride. So I'll ask you again: what is the real reason you wanted to speak to Torrhen? And keep in mind that Torrhen does listen to me when I express concerns about something."
Arianne swallowed thickly. She makes it seem like Torrhen would cast us out of the Dreadfort at her say so. "I do find him interesting, that wasn't a lie. His enthusiasm on subjects he finds interesting easily spreads, Maester Caleotte is very learned but he was always so boring in his lectures. But yes, my family does wish to arrange a betrothal between myself and Torrhen. Truthfully. . . " Her next words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "I'm not sure I want to. I'd have to give up my birthright if I married him, come live in the North. It's cold and dreary here and he's so ugly! How could I love someone like him?"
Her speech finished, Arianne stared down at her lap, clutching at her dress.
Lyanna snorted. "Marriage has nothing to do with love, it's about duty and commitment. If you're fortunate, like my own parents, you grow to love your spouse and they might love you in turn. But if you're hoping for a husband out of a song to come take you away to a lifetime of happiness you're deluding yourself. Don't make the same mistake I did."
Arianne's head snapped up at that final sentence. There were a hundred and one tales about Lyanna and Rhaegar's disappearances that led to the Rebellion. No one, not even Aunt Elia, seemed to know the truth of what happened. Or at least she won't tell me.
"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but as the daughter of the Prince of Dorne you must marry for the benefit of your house. While your parents married for love, I suspect it was the fact that your mother was a noble of sufficient standing with connections in Essos that your grandmother allowed it."
While Arianne had never met her grandmother, with the way her father spoke of her, Arianne was sure she wouldn't be so cold, to turn down a marriage of two people who loved each other just because it didn't bring enough to House Martell.
Heedless of Arianne's thoughts, Lyanna kept talking, "A marriage to Torrhen would benefit your house greatly, that much is obvious. And for all his faults, Torrhen wouldn't mistreat you. He places a high value on self-determination and independence, you would largely be free to do what you wanted here. But what would you bring to him? Dorne is a continent away, why should he marry you?"
"I don't know," Arianne admitted after she was unable to think of a reason. "What - what is it that you want from me? What do you want me to say? That I'm a stupid girl that would make a bad wife for him?"
Lyanna shook her head. "You misunderstand my purpose. I don't hate you or your family, I'm grateful for the help they gave me. I'm just trying to ascertain whether or not you'd be a good match for my bro- for Torrhen. And to be honest, I'm not sure you would be."
"Oh."
As she pushed herself to her feet, Lyanna said, "I know that when you leave the Dreadfort you won't be going straight to White Harbor, you'll be spending some time at Winterfell first. Mayhaps my nephew will be a better match for you, though you are seven years older than him. Something for you to consider, spend some time here thinking about it."
Arianne was left alone with her thoughts. And the heart tree.
Trees really shouldn't have faces.
~Oberyn Martell~
The more Oberyn talked with the hedge knight, the more sure he was that the man was spying for someone. He claimed to be from Honeyholt, a town in the Reach, yet had introduced himself as Ser Lora Waters. What's more, his squire, a quiet lad named Quercus, had the coloring of a Dothraki of all things. The pair had been in White Harbor and decided to join the procession that came to the Dreadfort.
Then again, he is so clearly suspicious that no one would trust him. Is he the obvious bait while someone more subtle gets in position?
Oberyn resolved to talk with every person that had accompanied them from the Manderly's city before he left. Not just for Torrhen's sake, my daughter is here. She needs to be safe until she is capable of defending herself.
"I must cut this short," Oberyn apologized. "But I see my goodsister and we have a meeting with Lord Telvanni."
"Oh, of course of course. I did not mean to keep you from anything. It was an honor meeting you, Prince Oberyn." Ser Lora gave a quick, "My Lady," before leaving.
"Looking for your next bedmate?" Mellario asked once the knight was out of earshot.
Oberyn smirked. "I am capable of talking to someone attractive without trying to bed them."
"I'm not sure I believe that."
"I've never tried with you, have I?"
Mellario seemed to wince at the thought. "Very well, I'll concede your point. What were you trying to do with him?"
"Oh, bed him of course. Did you see that jawline?" Oberyn couldn't stop his laugh as his goodsister sighed. "That was my original goal, but now I find him too suspicious. Don't want to wake up with a knife in my ribs."
"Very wise of you," Mellario drawled. "But come, we have that meeting with Torrhen to get to."
They began their trek down the hallway, Torren's solar was on the other side of the castle.
"I admire the effort you're putting into this. I know you do not like or trust the man, but you're still trying to marry your daughter to him."
Mellario bit her lip briefly before answering, "Prior to our arrival, and even once we got here, I had no plans to. I would do enough to convince everyone that I had tried, keep up appearances as Doran wanted, but anything beyond that was out of the question. Yes, his power is immense, so long as he's here I imagine the North could withstand the other six kingdoms united against them, but he's teaching Tyene, that was enough for me. I didn't want to risk Arianne to him. He drinks blood, what kind of mother would send her daughter to that?"
"Any noblewoman looking to advance her house," Oberyn said even though the question had likely been rhetorical.
Other than shooting Oberyn a quick glare, Mellario continued as if he hadn't spoken, "But now that I've spent time here, gotten to know Torrhen, talked extensively with Lyanna, observed how the smallfolk live, I've realized regardless of how macabre the trappings Torrhen decides to cloak himself with, he's not actually Maegor-come-again. People call him an upjumped sellsword but honestly, he's more of an upjumped maester."
Oberyn chuckled. "He does seem to desire nothing more than to learn all he can about magic. Given how he refused both my and Ellaria's advances, I have to wonder if any woman he marries will still be a maid when she's old and gray."
"That does concern me," Mellario admitted, raising a finger at Oberyn. "But other than that, I do think Torrhen would be a good husband."
"Some would say that is a rather large issue for a marriage."
His goodsister gave a loud sigh in response and her accent was particularly thick as she spoke, "Westeros is a violent land, inhabited by a violent people. You don't even wage war in a civilized manner. I'd rather Arianne be safe than happy."
Even after over a decade of living on this side of the Narrow Sea, Mellario still had trouble adjusting to the differences in culture between Dorne and Norvos, to say nothing of the additional differences with the rest of Westeros. She normally kept her more negative opinions to herself but when it came to her children, she was more than willing to speak up.
I won't deny there are certain benefits to having the vast majority of the fighting done by sellswords, limits those that might die in battle to those that are willing to do so. Usually.
Having spent time as a sellsword in Essos, Oberyn knew it wasn't as clean and 'civilized' as Mellario liked to believe but it wasn't an argument that was worth having.
"Regardless," Oberyn said, "it doesn't matter how good a husband Torrhen would make for Arianne if we can't get him to agree to it. And I can tell he's getting annoyed that we keep bringing it up, we're going to need to change tactics or at least back off for a few a couple of days."
"What is more important? That he marry Arianne or that he not marry outside of Dorne?" Mellario asked.
"You're suggesting we offer the daughter of a bannerman?"
"Any female relative, restricting it to just daughters may not work out as well given Torrhen's. . . pickiness."
Oberyn stroked his chin in thought. "I'm still not convinced he isn't lying about Arianne's age being the reason he refuses to set up a betrothal. Or, at least, it isn't the sole reason."
"Marrying a local woman would improve his situation," Mellario observed. "But why not just say that? Given the Trial, White Harbor is basically closed to him even if it will never officially be so. He obviously needs nearby allies, of which we are not, so just. . ." She trailed off, her frustration clear.
"Given how utterly lacking he is in courtly behavior, you'll be shocked to learn that, in actuality, Torrhen does not like giving offense. This may be his attempt at avoiding being rude."
"That might be the boldest lie you've ever told."
"No no, it's true," Obery argued. "There is very little malice behind his actions. Now, that doesn't mean there was a lot of thought put into it either, one can mean well and still be stupid."
Mellario had to smack a hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter that began spilling forth. Once she regained control of herself she said, "Very well. Let's assume you're correct. Do we push for him to marry or should we drop the issue?"
Oberyn gave a quick glance around before answering, "We knew getting a betrothal out of this was a long shot, our main purpose was drawing the attention of our bannermen as we escorted Tyene here. There's no reason we should stop trying, provided we do not anger Torrhen by doing so."
"So this discussion was one big circle, ending us at where we started, attempting to marry him to my daughter?" she deadpanned.
"When you put it that way-"
"Oh, just shut up and come along," Mellario interrupted.
The pair walked the rest of the way in silence. I think I may have annoyed her.
As they got closer to the Lord of the Dreadfort's solar they heard something entirely unexpected: Torrhen was singing.
"All he does, prospers well, but the wicked are not so. They are chaff before the wind, driven to and fro. Ne'er in scorners chair he sits, for he places his delight, in God's law and meditates, on it day and night. All he does, prospers well, but the wicked are not so. They are chaff before the wind, driven to and fro."
Oberyn moved right past the enormous form of Krell standing guard and began banging a fist against the door. "Torrhen, you liar! You said you couldn't sing!"
The song abruptly stopped and Torrhen's voice echoed out through the door, "Oberyn, come in. And Mellario if she's with you."
Shoving the door open, Oberyn repeated himself as he entered the room, "I knew that deep voice of yours would sound good if you actually sang! Why'd you claim you were bad?"
"Because I am," Torrhen argued. "Singing a hymn is not the same as singing."
"That doesn't make any sense!"
"It's like listening to children," Mellario complained behind him.
Oberyn spun in place. "How can you say that? Torrhen lied to me, this calls everything in quest-"
He stopped mid sentence when Mellario reached up and flicked his nose. "Act your age."
Oberyn stood there, rubbing at his face, as his goodsister took a seat opposite Torrhen's desk. She clearly does not understand the implications of this. If he plays the harp and recites poetry there will be no stopping him.
"I'm sure you know why we have this meeting, Lord Telvanni," Mellario said.
"Another attempt at getting me to agree to marry a child," Torrhen responded, looking down at the needle and thread in his hand.
Torrhen's desk did not have a stack of books upon it, it was not covered in reports, it did not appear as if a lord was doing his duties here. No, it looked as if a Lady commanded the room. The desk had numerous pieces of cloth strewn across it, with all manner of stitches through them. It's like he's testing them out, but for what?
"You wouldn't be wed to Arianne until she was older. Though eight and ten would be rather late under normal circumstance, if that's the date you wanted Doran and I would find it agreeable."
Rather than say anything, Torrhen simply sighed and shook his head.
"Alternatively, there are a number of available women in Dorne. Ashara Dayne, for example, is quite the beauty and still unwed."
If Oberyn hadn't been looking right at Torrhen at the time, he never would have believed what happened next. At the mention of Ashara Dayne, one of the most beautiful women in all of Westeros, Torrhen visibly gagged in disgust. With a mouth like his it was very noticeable.
I knew it! He likes men!
However, because Oberyn was silently celebrating Mellario was able to speak first, "That is not the reaction I was expecting."
"Ashara is very good looking, I'm not about to deny that but she and Ned slept together. Just - ew. I'll never bed a woman if I know the men she's been with."
Oberyn's mind exploded upon hearing those words. I can take women out of the competition for his hand if I sleep with them?