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He thought his eyes were betraying him at first. Princess Elia would not be in Tyrosh.
The first time he dismissed it as a trick of his weary mind. After all, he had been weary, for many months. He’s been made wearier since being stripped of Dawn and unceremoniously ousted from his childhood home.
He was certain it was her, however. Now that he had seen her, he does not know how to react. If she was here, surely, she would have sought him, them, out?
His gaze flits towards Lyanna.
Perhaps the Princess would not if she thought…
But, still, the first time he thought he saw Princess Elia, he chocked it up to wishful thinking. Now, there was no mistaking it. She was here.
His next thought was how Allem had not told him much of anything, let alone how the princess fared! Then again, would his brother have told him anything if he had thought to ask?
He lets out a sigh. Like as not.
He will never see Allem again like he will never see Dawn. He will never see anything he loved again. Not only was Starfall barred to him, so too was the rest of Westeros. When Allem had deigned to speak to him, he had let him know there was a bounty on his head and that of the other two members of the Kingsguard…former Kingsguard.
Without a thought his hand goes towards the sword at his hip. The piece there is still not familiar. It was not Dawn with him. He will never hold Dawn again.
Whatever passed for peace between Dorne and the Usurper did not stop that from occurring, not that Allem seemed torn up about it.
Remembering that day, he takes a shuddering breath.
Half drowned in shadow, Allem tosses a sword at him.
His brother demands, “Take this one in its stead.”
Though he catches the sword, it was as though by rote, not desire. His brother gives him this, but, he does not want it.
How could this sword even compare? It cannot. And Dawn was stripped from him the moment he stepped foot in his home…former home, he supposes now.
He stares at this…gift that does not sing for him in the way Dawn had. And Dawn will not anymore.
And why should it sing for him? He was no longer the Sword of the Morning. Even Starfall is no longer his home.
“You cannot-”
“Can’t I?” Allem laughs harshly. “Did you think you were going to keep Dawn? That you had any right to anything belonging to House Dayne? From what I can glean you have not used our ancestral sword as intended for at least two years. You think I will allow you to dishonor it further? You have not wielded it in the service of our house, our people-”
Does Allem think he does not know that? But, there was only defense he could give. “I was doing as my prince bid.”
Allem’s face clouds. “Which was not to guard him or the king you were actually sworn to.”
He bites back a curse.
The gall of his brother! Allem has no love for King Aerys. Allem had been there when Princess Rhaenys was introduced at court along with other prominent Dornish houses. If Aerys can insult his own granddaughter, what limit was there? And there hadn’t been as they learned of the burnings of the Stark lords and the others…
He tries again, “Allem-”
His brother, sneering, shakes his head. “Your prince required things of you, very well. I grant you that. Only that. Remember this Little Brother, the Kingsguard took you, but, they are not entitled to our family’s weapons. I allowed you to take it to King’s Landing because you were using it to guard your king and later your prince at your king’s pleasure. Now both are dead. I cannot allow you to have it any longer. You may act as a nursemaid to Lady Stark’s child to your heart’s content, however, Dawn’s purpose was never to accompany you as you do so.”
Allem gestures to the sword now in his hands, “That, I can part with easily.”
He almost laughs in his brother’s face. ‘Part with it easily’. Allem can part with this easily after wrenching back Dawn? Can part with him?
Perhaps it was simply that easy. Who was he now but a disgraced man to his kingdom?
He looks at the sword in his hands again. Will it ever feel right in his hands? He asks his brother, “How did you come across it?”
His brother steps out of shadow and his heart drops. There was a jagged cut on Allem’s face from temple to chin. A healed scar, but, one that had not been there the last time he saw his brother.
His stomach drops. His brother smiles sharply. He swallows heavily when he sees the scar twitch. Allem taps at the scar. “It’s a good sword. I would not have taken it off the man who gave me this, otherwise.”
His heart twists, guessing how that came about. Guess…it was only guessing because he was not there to prevent it. Who knows what else he had missed while he was holed up in that tower whose very existence he now curses?
His brother steps closer to him now. He forces himself not to look away. “You would be correct in thinking that I got this in the war that our people were forced into, thanks to your actions.”
He could scream himself hoarse about following Prince Rhaegar’s orders, but he had not objected to them, had he?
Allem could ask if he wanted to follow those orders, but, he knew his brother did not care. What was his desire when his actions spoke loudly enough?
One day later he boarded a boat with his fellow companions. Allem only allowed the physical sanctuary of Starfall for so long. Allem hissed he had a wife and two sisters to think of, along with the rest of Starfall. Allem’s priority will not be his wayward brother, now with a bounty on his head, or his equally wayward companions.
There would be questions otherwise; questions Allem does not want to entertain. Not when, as he said, King Robert was being awfully generous to his once sworn enemies and Starfall had been one.
He grimaces. That still rankles. His prince was dead at Robert’s hand, but, Robert was now king. Even Allem seemed to acknowledge it. Allem, no doubt, hoped denying him sanctuary and taking Dawn would be enough to ease the scrutiny on Starfall from Robert as well as Sunspear, so he’d been forced to leave along with his companions, including Lady Lyanna. Lady Lyanna would not return to Winterfell without the child and none of them could guarantee Stark would allow the child even if he did take the sister back. If Allem sided with Robert now, who could say how Lord Stark would react at all?
Of course, Allem also had another reason to have them gone. The Martells were coming to Starfall and the Martells likely would not react well to them. Or rather, it was only one Martell; Manfrey. Ashara’s betrothal needed to be settled, Allem said pointedly. Now that Quentyn Qorgyle withdrew his suit, Manfrey Martell was the offer Allem accepted for their sister.
That had been another blow. Once, his sister would have been too good a match for a second born prince like Prince Oberyn, let alone the cousin. Clearly Sunspear wanted the Dayne’s close, but, not that close and Allem wanted to make no waves. He liked Manfrey well enough, they’d grown up together at the Water Gardens, after all, but, before Arthur’s part in Princess Elia’s humiliation, Ashara would have netted a lord, not a landless cousin.
But, Allem had not mentioned where Princess Elia was at all. Yet, before they left Starfall, he had learned King’s Landing had been sacked by the duplicitous Lannisters and that the king had been the only royal casualty. The Queen and Prince Viserys had been at Dragonstone and Princess Elia and Prince Rhaegar’s children…
Now, he turns towards the young woman to his side and corrects himself. Prince Rhaegar’s elder two children had been in King’s Landing until they had not been. Somehow, the Princess and the children had been smuggled out before it happened. Allem had not said much about it.
What little else he learned had not prepared him for the sight of Princess Elia in Tyrosh. But, it was her.
He saw Princess Elia climb into a golden litter painted with purple dragons on each corner. What’s more, before he saw her vanish, he heard her voice as she spoke to one of the Tyroshi with bright green hair who helped her into it.
“It’s her, Princess Elia.”
Knowing how he found himself in Tyrosh, for the first time since he got here, he almost feels relief.
Ser Gerold turns to where he focused his gaze, frowning. “You are certain?”
“Yes.”
This time there was no mistaking it. He’d recognize her, he thinks somewhat guiltily, even if it has been two years.
He turns to the Tyroshi, man next to him and points out towards the litter. “Whose men are those?”
The Tyroshi, with hair as vermillion as his beard, glances at him suspiciously.
He juts out his sword clad hip. For once since he was thrown out of Starfall he was grateful for Allem giving him at least this. He says, “I am looking to earn coin. They clearly have it for those who work.”
The man’s face settles into a comfortable smile. Naturally, the Tyroshi understands that! “Old Perennis.”
“Perennis?” he asks doubtfully. The name is unfamiliar.
The man huffs, “Lyseni but he has some Tyroshi kinsmen. But, you cannot help who your kin are, can you?”
He pushes down the last memory of Allem in favor of a memory of him as a child studying the history between Lys and Tyrosh. Some of the history had been violent. That would be something a Tyroshi would think.
He blinks. “You know them well?”
The man huffs, “I do some work for the young one here or there. They pay well, that I know.” The man laughs as he adds, “Coin is coin. Perennis coin has been good to me.”
Something a Tyroshi would say and the Tyroshi grins unapologetically. From his other side, Oswell snorts.
He commits the name “Perennis” to memory.
When they were comfortably certain they found the manse belonging to Perennis, they decided to come together. They did not know Tyrosh well. Allem traveled here. He had not.
Either way, he certainly did not trust anyone else even if they did have hope now they knew the princess was here. A bounty on their heads was a bounty and this was Tyrosh. But, he had to hope the Perennis were wealthy enough not to want to turn them in at the earliest opportunity.
He thought back to what the man, Qohor, had said. Old Perennis was Lyseni but visited frequently because his son, who the “the young one” apparently was, had the position of Magister here.
Whatever the reason the reason, it was clear the Perennis lived well. Once the maid walked them through the manse, they walked on marble floors through halls festooned with large tapestries and even richer furniture. The last time he saw such gold and furnishings in display, it was at Lannisport for the tourney held in Prince Viserys’ honor.
They were finally shown into the grand atrium and were led to a comfortably appointed room that was separated from a well-tended courtyard by a small arched hallway.
He did not understand why or how Princess Elia was here with Perennis; but, she was here. The servant who let them in had confirmed as much as she went to announce their presence.
He’d swallowed down his irritation at the suspicious glance the lady had given him.
There were muffled sounds coming from all points, but, no one disturbed them after the maid left them until he saw Princess Elia.
She looked well, he thought, relieved. She was wearing a gown of deep violet and an ornate gold necklace with matching a pair of golden bracelets in each arm.
His relief did not last long. It was clear to him the princess was not happy to see them. Neither was Prince Oberyn, who came in with her.
It took everything in him not to flee at that look of utter loathing his prince gave him.
Of the two ladies who followed the Martell’s steps, he recognized Amina Jordayne. He recognized the disgust in her eyes, too.
From the corner of his vision, he saw Oswell wince. Amina Jordayne had been a fixture at Dragonstone. She was the one among Princess Elia’s ladies who granted Oswell her favor at Harrenhal. After Prince Rhaegar crowned Lady Lyanna, Lady Jordayne avoided both the prince and the knight whenever possible.
He ignored the cold looks of the women familiar to him in favor of focusing on the Tyroshi man with hair dyed blue. A stranger to him, but, the man’s cool gaze on him was assessing in a familiar way. A soldier’s gaze. Yet, this man’s scrutiny was difficult to bear. It showed that this Tyroshi man found him, and his companions, unwelcome; perhaps, even a threat. The man had even angled himself so that he would be able to get between them and the ladies should something untoward happen.
He looked at Princess Elia once more. Was that what he was now? A threat? Thinking about Lady Lyanna and her child at his side, he wonders if his princess believed him a champion to a threat to her person or to her children?
Despite the sinking feeling, he told himself he was just his imagination. He had to. What would the alternative mean?
He avoids looking at Lyanna when the Princess focuses on the thankfully silent bundle in Lyanna’s arms. He knew the Princess would not be happy about that, but, surely, she would not turn away her children’s brother?
He let himself hope until the princess addresses them without warmth. “Ser Gerold. Ser Arthur. Follow me, please.”
She turns towards the unfamiliar lady companion. “Tyesa, will you please arrange for refreshments for Ser Oswell and Lady Lyanna while we speak to Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur in the smaller study.”
The princess waited just long enough for the girl, Tyesa, to murmur her quick assent before the siblings started walking towards the doorway which would lead towards the “smaller study”.
He glanced helplessly at Ser Gerold.
Before he could even speak, Lady Amina let out a disdainful cough and gestured to the Martells’ retreating backs with a look. The Tyroshi, he noticed, extended his hand to her and she took it.
He swallows, looking away, guiltily.
They can save their questions until later. They were a surprise. He can see now they did not make for a particularly appreciated surprise. Best not antagonize them…further. Not if they need their hosts to become amenable to them.
Soon they are led into another room. The smaller study, the Princess called it. It was still a large room. Brightly lit, but, the furniture was sturdy. A giant oak table dominated the room. Tomes, some ancient and some new, lined the one of the walls. Still, the thought of what would occur in these rooms dominated his thoughts.
While the princess does offer wine, she does not invite them to sit.
It was Ser Gerold the princess looks to first. “Ser Gerold. You are in good health.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Gerold confirms, “I am.”
The grizzled man starts to smile until she continues: “I am rather shocked.” A muscle in the Princess’ throat jumps when she continues, “We thought you died.”
Only years of schooling his face during Aerys’ reign cause his jaw not to drop. A trill of amusement sounded from where Lady Amina stood. The blue haired Tyroshi looked amused, or at least he had until the man saw him looking. Then, the man’s face hardened as did Prince Oberyn’s.
Aghast, Gerold cries, “My Princess?”
Princess Elia’s lips tick upwards as Prince Oberyn sneers.
She explains, “It was two years ago, perhaps longer, that King Aerys sent you to find my former husband. But, only he returned for a brief moment before he rode off to fight in the war he helped spark.”
Gerold was not the only one to flinch at the words.
Gerold looks away from the princess and he feels the shame rise in himself. Gerold had begged their prince to let him accompany him back to King’s Landing but Prince Rhaegar refused. Instead, Gerold was ordered to remain at the tower. Gerold had resented it but obeyed; the same as he did. The princess clearly resents it though for vastly different reasons than they had.
The princess continues ruthlessly, “Since my former husband had not thought to divulge things of importance to me and you, Ser, did not see fit to send word, naturally, we could only draw one conclusion until our impressions were corrected.”
Former husband.
Gods, what has he stepped into? And she had not said she was pleased by it.
But, he does not address that. He asks instead, “Impressions? Corrected?”
The Princess’ face becomes less expressive. Yet, it was Prince Oberyn who spoke. “There were many of us who were left wondering about your location and your actions. My brother and I; the rest of the lords of Dorne; our cousin, King Robert; his companions; and, of course, members of your former brotherhood: the ones you know such as Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime, those who took the vacancies left behind by those perished in the war, and the ones who have since taken your places.”
Former brotherhood. Vacant places.
Prince Oberyn’s words had been so lacking in affect, yet, the more he spoke the tightness in his chest steadily increased.
With a voice just as mild as her brother's, the princess picks up the thread, “I had wondered as well, such men previously loyal to my children and I were nowhere to be seen. There was very little else I could have possibly thought.”
Thought or hoped?
They exchange weary looks before Ser Gerold tries again, “How is it that you find yourself here princess?”
She narrows her eyes. “I could not possibly allow myself to be become more of a burden to my house or my people after such a debacle. As you can see, I left King’s Landing. My children and I left Westeros completely.”
Gerold asks, “What of Prince Aegon’s claim?”
Prince Oberyn’s eyes were slits of fury, but, the princess? She threw her head back and laughs. Still, this was no laugh he had ever heard from her. There was no joy in it; the sound of it was uncharacteristically harsh and cold.
When she speaks finally stops, her voice was little more than a hiss. “Claim? What claim? For what? That hideous monstrosity of a throne? There were no Dornish swords stolen to make it and I intend to keep it that way. 10,000 spears were already sent for a war my people were dragged into because Aerys had me and my children in his grasp. How many more of my people would you have me sacrifice? Robert’s rule is acknowledged. The lords and ladies of Westeros do not desire a regency when Robert more than won that tilt. I will not sacrifice my son’s safety! Robert is welcome to that gods-forsaken chair along with all the madness that goes with it!”
Ser Gerold speaks, “What of Prince Rhae-”
She glares daggers at them now. “Whatever Rhaegar intended ceased to matter the moment he got a Warhammer to the chest from our cousin, who is now king. Perhaps, it is because you were not on the battlefield or lived through what I have, Sers, you do not realize it.”
She, too, addresses Robert as king…and cousin. And he must listen to her say it while she calls them ‘Sers’ with none of the respect she once used to have in spades.
He finds himself asking, “Was it so easy?”
Prince Oberyn steps forward, but, the princess stops him by encircling her brother’s wrist with her hand.
There was no respite from her. She turns her heated gaze at him. “Robert wanted to know how much I knew, as well. Once things got cleared up, namely, that I was not involved in this-” She gestures sharply towards them and tries to stand taller.
There is a bitter twist to her lips when she continues, “My children and I are, of course, free to travel to and within Dorne. While it is not explicitly denied to us venturing beyond the borders of my homelands, I would not put my children at risk for the perfidy of others. Now that I am in Tyrosh, my children and I are allowed to be completely at peace. That suits me just fine.”
But, that does not suit him!
He swallows as Princess Elia ends archly: “One path closed to me and so I picked another. I suggest you do the same.”
He swallows his words. The implication was clear; she expected whatever path they take it should be away from her.
“Quite, my dear!”
He turns. The speaker was a man of fifty odd years, finely dressed, accompanied by a woman of perhaps sixty clutching his hands float into the room followed by two brightly garbed Tyroshi with even more brightly colored hair and beards.
He swallows as he takes in the well-dressed pair. Husband and wife? No, he thinks, his heart sinking. Silver hair; purple eyes. The pair’s eyes are nearly identical. More than a touch of Valyria in both. Briefly he remembers his histories and wonders that those dragonlords who survived the Doom tried to live in Tyrosh only for the Tyroshi to kill them and their dragons.
Once again, he turns towards the princess who seems not only relieved to see the pair, but, happy to see them. Almost too happy, he thinks with dismay.
Who were they to her? Not merely benefactors, if the smirk on Prince Oberyn’s face indicates. It’s that sharp, dangerous smile promising trouble.
Princess Elia catches him staring, her expression becoming knowing. It resembles Prince Oberyn’s too much for him to be comforted by it. He’d seen that look leveled at many men before the Prince tore them down in the practice yards.
“Allow me to introduce you,” his princess says, in a voice that was polite yet pointed.
She turns their attention to the man first. “This fine lord is called Maegor Perennis, though he was born Prince Maegor Targaryen.”
Gods no!
Prince Oberyn's smirk only grows.
The old woman was introduced as: “This is Princess Vaella Targaryen.”
Not them! Of all the people for the Martells to take up with! They were Targaryens, but, this does not fill him with any sort of confidence.
The princess’ expression does not change but there was far too much amusement in Prince Oberyn’s face.
Besides him, Gerold gasps. He also knew exactly who these two were. Brightflame’s son and the daughter of Maekar’s Daeron and Kiera of Tyrosh!
The woman, Princess Vaella, smiles at Elia, “Oh, my dear girl, are these to be your new servants?”
As outraged as he was at the temerity, shock at the revelation of the pair’s identity outweighs it, barely.
Prince Oberyn laughs outright. Princess Elia gives them a warning look as she wraps her hands around the elder woman’s thin shoulders.
He tries to suppress his ever-growing dread when he hears the sweetness in Princess Elia’s voice which was directed towards the older woman. “No, my dear princess, they are not. However, I am not mistress here. It is not up to me.”
Outrage now completely overtakes every other feeling as the woman smile placidly at Princess Elia.
Not up to her? That is the best she can do?
Or was that all she was willing to do?
The two new Tyroshi men look as though they want to laugh but restrain themselves, being too well trained for that. Though she remains equally silent, Lady Amina looks back at him with her dark eyes sparkling.
Maegor Targaryen, no, Perennis, does laugh aloud. “My dear, you are not mistress here, yet. However, you will be. I value your words.”
Elia smiles gratefully at the old man.
His mind whirrs.
This man was born a Targaryen and was called by Perennis? Perennis is probably a name he chose to separate himself from his Targaryen kin. But, why? And what was his connection to the Martells now? He knew the history but still…
Princess Vaella glances adoringly at both and chimes in, “Maegor is right, you know, dearest. Our cousin usually is.”
The Targaryen prince gives his cousin an indulgent look before fixing his gaze back on Princess Elia. “I quite agree. What say you, my dear?”
Even though he knew the others felt some hope, he had a sinking feeling. He is proven right when she shakes her head, frowning. “I have no desire court disaster from Robert.”
Court disaster? She cared about Robert that much? Was that it?
Prince Oberyn glances at him sharply.
He feels his heart twists even as Ser Gerold asks, “Court disaster?”
He holds in a sigh. Allem had only spoken to him, not Ser Gerold or Oswell and he had not told them everything. He could barely find the words.
The Martells and Maegor chuckle; Maegor’s was incredulous while Princess Elia’s was bitter, and Prince Oberyn’s was filled with malice. Lady Amina’s face looked like she smelled curdled milk.
Perennis tilts his head towards the princess. She shakes her head again, vehemently. “I have had no issues with him or Arryn. I want none. Robert expressed no enmity towards my children and I who were only victims of the treachery of others.”
Treachery, he thinks with dismay. Is that how she views it? What could he do or say to fix that?
She gives them a pointed look. “Though it pains me that I cannot be with my brothers and their families’, I have since carved up a life for my children and I here. I mean to ensure our lives remain peaceful.”
Prince Oberyn pointedly adds, “As much as such a thing pains me, right you are, dear sister. We would have you, my niece, and nephew comfortable.” He ended with a look of such disdain that made it obvious who the prince blamed for his sister’s discomfort.
The Princess addresses Gerold. “I cannot say this without meaning to be blunt but, your presence would be an unnecessary complication that I never desired.”
The now or then was painfully clear even if remaining unsaid.
Princess Vaella asks, “Do you know these people, dearest?”
Princess Elia answers, “This pair of men and that one in the atrium? Once, I thought I did. I have since learned I cannot trust they would be loyal to myself or my children.”
She might have struck him and still he would have felt that less. Her face remained mild but there was no ignoring the fury emanating from her eyes.
Princess Vaella prompts, “What of the girl? I saw she carried a child in her arms. You would not have her either? Amina and Tyesa are lovely, but, you will need other ladies.”
Frowning, the princess shakes her head. “That child is one she got on a man already wed with children. I cannot allow for such a presence in a household such as this.”
The old woman looks positively scandalized now. “Absolutely not. This is not that sort of household.” She seems to think of something. “Oh, but, does not Dorne allow for paramours and such?”
Ah, a stroke of luck after all. Perhaps there was a way for the Princess to soften towards them after all.
Princess Elia dips her head, yet, it was Prince Oberyn who answered, “Paramours, yes, my dear lady, but, it is quite rare to take a paramour when one is married. I, myself, have taken a paramour and I am not wed, neither is she. It is certainly never done when either the husband or the wife does not agree. As it is, I know for a fact the wife never agreed. Is that not so, sweet sister?”
Princess Elia nods sharply. “Absolutely correct. There was no such agreement.”
He glances at the floor. He knew Prince Rhaegar never meant it as an offence, but, he cannot pretend that the Princess had not been angry about the perceived slight at Harrenhal. And if he was honest, he was glad Prince Rhaegar asked for his company after the fact. He does not think he could have held silent about the Prince’s whereabouts had the he remained behind with the Princess. Seeing and hearing her now, he knows she would have demanded answers from him; perhaps more. Had he remained behind, he might have given her the answers she would have required of him.
“Quite so,” Perennis says, glancing at them coolly before turning to the women. “Come now ladies, my prince, it is such a beautiful day, why waste it in doors and it is to be midday soon. The children could use a picnic. Why not see to that while I converse with our visitors.”
Prince Oberyn gives him one more hate-filled glance before turning back to Perennis. “I agree it is a lovely day, but I would hate to leave you alone with these visitors, unexpected as they are.”
He holds in a frown. Visitors is not guests.
But, are the Prince and Princess not visitors?
The old Targaryen prince turns to Prince Oberyn with something approaching fondness. “Nonsense, my boy, the comfort of my family is paramount, and I would not have it so that they or you are bogged down with matters such as these.”
He was the Sword of the Morning once. Now, he is “a matter one is bogged down by”.
And this man did not seem to think they had any opinion in this matter.
Princess Vaella, smiling at her cousin, seemed to think nothing of the dismissal cloaked as a suggestion. Elia, noticed perhaps only by himself, gave Perennis a grateful look that burned for reasons he rather not voice.
Whatever the reason, Prince Oberyn does not fight the old man. “As you will it.” He’s never heard Prince Oberyn be so polite.
With that, the old Targaryen princess let herself be dragged away by Princess Elia and Prince Oberyn with Lady Amina and the same Tyroshi guardsman, once again following. Lady Amina was whispering to the man. The more she spoke, the more the Tyroshi started to sneer.
Perennis nods to the other two Tyroshi who stood in the background. The one with the green hair turns to follow the group out.
No one spoke as the group ventured further into the manse towards the arches leading to a well maintained, open courtyard displaying lushness that now seemed to mock them.
Then, Perennis returns his attention towards them; his face is mild but no longer friendly as he gestures towards the doorway leading them back to where Oswell and Lyanna sat.
He shakes his head when Oswell looks up.
Perennis begins, “You will forgive my cousin, of course, for her misunderstanding. She was blessed with a sweet temperament, but, she was not with too great a wit.” There was something sad mixed in with fondness in the man’s tone.
When confronted with both grandchildren of Maekar Targaryen, he remembers why their own claims towards the Iron Throne were dismissed. Yet, it was a clear the pair’s knowledge of their own lineage was unmistakable. For all that the Princess was simple, she had seemed to see herself as their better, and while the man’s words were of apology, he has served at court of King Aerys enough to identify royal command when he hears it.
Ser Gerold starts, “That is all well and good however-”
The old man interrupts with a simple lift of a hand and a frown. “Elia and Oberyn were being kind-”
He balked. Was that kind?
He turns to Ser Gerold who looks equally aghast.
Maegor Perennis continues, “Your presence is a detriment, not a mere complication. We cannot oblige you in any way. We will not.”
“You three-” the man gestures, “Still have a bounty on your heads. This is Tyrosh. The people here value money.”
The guardsman left behind, with hair and beard dyed red, does not speak but had smiled so slightly one would have almost missed it before the expression vanished.
Perennis explains further, “Few will hesitate to report your presence to retrieve that bounty, or perhaps take your life to do it. It may come back that we are housing you. I refuse to allow even the rumors of it.”
He argues, “We require sanctuary.”
Perennis adds blithely, “It is my right to refuse. I am not willing to put my household at risk; not for you. I pride myself on keeping a virtuous household and a felicitous one. I have no use for three guards who were derelict in their duties to the people they were sworn to guard and have bounties on their heads any more than I do a lady whose participation in Elia’s humiliation was willing.”
It was not only because Lyanna’s face went white as she clutched her child closer to her that his frustration finally won out. “You would turn away kinsmen? Princess Elia’s children are no different in relation to you than Lady Lyanna’s son is.”
Perennis sneers. “I am aware as to who is who. I am also under no obligation to house anyone whose presence would displease those who I have welcomed into my home.”
Ser Gerold asks, “So you would turn away your kin?”
Letting out a huff, Perennis explains, “Of my father’s kin, Vaella might be the only cousin I ever loved. Of my Uncle Aegon’s children, Rhaelle was the only one I could stomach. I had as much patience for Jaeherys and Shaera as I did for Duncan, which is none. I have less patience for their descendants, who saw what their actions had wrought and managed to do worse! At any rate, I am under no obligation to house Westeros’ cast-offs for the simple reason of my having no desire to do it.”
Gerold remarks, “But, you will allow Princess Elia and her children? How could you be so welcoming to her and not-”
Perennis’ lips fold into a snarl, “I hope you care for Queen Rhaella and her younger son as much as you do about Rhaegar’s youngest? And where are my cousins’ daughter and her remaining son, pray tell? Since you insist that ‘family remain together’ where is your care for them? Why are they not with you?”
Before both men come to blows, he interjects, “We are kin too after a fashion.”
Perennis rounds on him contemptuously. “Yes, my grandmother was a Dayne. How good of you to remember. Perhaps you would also remember my grandfather’s mother was a Martell.”
He swallows down the curse daring to make its way past his throat. But, before he can mount a counter to that Oswell interjects, “Surely you can care for all family, particularly the Targaryens since that is who you are?”
Perennis only sneers. “Why should I care about a realm or kinsmen who cared not for me?”
Oswell tries again, “Prince Aegon is the rightful king.”
Perennis sneers in a way that reminds him of both King Aerys and Prince Oberyn. “You wish to speak of rightful claims and kings, let us then. You say Aegon is the rightful king…because his grandfather was king? And his father was the king’s heir? When my grandfather Maekar passed, I too was the eldest living son of the king’s elder sons. My claim was passed over in a time of relative peace. Now Aegon’s was passed over after Robert won that tilt against his father. My claim was summarily dismissed in favor of an elder relative further down the line. Now, too, is Aegon’s. The entire realm of Westeros acknowledges Robert’s ascendance, and it makes no difference who sits on the Iron Throne to Essos so long as the coin and goods continue to flow between these two realms. Westeros has moved beyond waiting for my uncle’s line to right itself. This Aegon’s own mother and uncles can see it. I suggest you come around to that as well.”
The more this man spoke the clearer it became this was about old hurts come back to roost! They truly are unfortunate to have encountered Perennis! Perennis, perhaps, came to grips with how Aegon V was chosen over him by the council, but, Aegon the Unlikely could have disowned all his sons for refusing to do their duties. In Perennis, he could have had an heir, but, that was not the path Aegon V chose. Here was the result!
Ser Gerold sneers. “And you are doing it for their benefit.”
Even the Tyroshi looks as though he wants to roll his eyes.
Perennis scoffs. “Tyrosh has done business with Sunspear for centuries and do with Starfall after a fashion. We do not do much, if any, business with the Riverlands, some with the Reach, and none with Winterfell. As it is, family or no, the Prince of Dorne is a friend to the Archon of this city. Perhaps you are not aware the Archon’s young daughter is in the Water Gardens as we speak.”
Though he had not known that he knew full well the last was directed at him since he and this man know he would never be welcome back in the Water Gardens and his companions never were.
Perennis shakes his head and gives them a hard gaze. “Yes, I was born a Targaryen as was my uncle who killed himself and so many others with his foolishness. My cousin’s son burned lords for his own amusement and his married son absconded with a maiden betrothed to his cousin. Rhaelle’s grandson cannot possibly be worse for Westeros. Even if that may become true, which I doubt, I will not fight the Crown for any of you. What I can do, now that Princess Elia and I are to be kin since the Crown has even contributed towards her dowry-”
What blood had risen in his cheeks rushes away. Kin? Dowry?
Ser Gerold recovers first. “What did you mean dowry?”
The man smiles truly then, “Probably the old Falcon’s doing, but, welcome all the same. Once the marriage takes place-”
So, there it was. When it comes to Prince Rhaegar’s children, Perennis already picked a side, one that benefits him, and the Princess will seek to shore up security for her own children by making such a marriage.
Still, this man…was so much older. Surely the princess would not… He remembers that Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana had come to Essos to find a bride for Prince Rhaegar, ultimately finding none. That had been in the report Lord Steffon had said; no brides. They had not been looking for Targaryen grooms!
His face heats as he tries not to look towards Lyanna again. Would Princess Elia truly marry this man? Wealthy absolutely; and an older husband was less likely to stray from the marriage bed. But, could that be reason enough? “You are marrying the princess?”
He asks the question doubtfully. He can barely bring himself to believe it.
The man’s face clouds dangerously. Incensed, Perennis growls, “Elia is young enough be my daughter! Even if not and I was so odious, I dare say my wife and my sons would strenuously object.”
He breathes out, relieved. Yet, this only confuses him. “Then, what marriage?”
Though the man’s face turns congenial, he cannot mistake the dislike still oozing from Perennis. “While I share the given name of the third Targaryen king, I have not lived my life by making his foolish mistakes. Given how Elia and her children came to find themselves here, and your roles in it-”
The man quickly glances at the bundle in Lyanna’s hands before flicking his gaze away. The man takes a deep breath and continues with chin held high, “She is marrying my youngest son.”
Somehow, the man puffs up even more. The pride on his face is unmistakable. “Vaelor is a Magister here. This is his home. He is to marry Elia.”
Oh, of course. In his shock, he'd forgotten. Now, he remembers the Tyroshi from before mentioning there was a son.
Ser Gerold speaks again with hesitation in his tone. “I beg your pardon but is it not so that she had trouble in the birthing bed?”
The Tyroshi guard frowns but Perennis looks disgusted as he corrects, “She has already brought two children into my son’s household”.
He turns away though he sees the Tyroshi’s lips curl up.
Perennis stands taller, proudly. “As I said, Vaelor is my youngest son. He has two older brothers. I have six grandchildren: boys and girls. There is another on the way, in fact. This is Tyrosh, not King’s Landing. The number of people in my household is of no consequence. What matters is that I have enough coin to care for my household and how I go about providing for it. Because Elia is to marry my son, I will arrange for the best possible life for her children as is my duty. It will be no different than I do for my other sons’ children. I have thrived in Lys. I will see to it Aegon and Rhaenys will thrive in Tyrosh under the care of their mother and my son.”
He considers Perennis’ motives. Elia was raising her children, particularly, Aegon in Tyrosh with these sensibilities in this household. A peaceful and a comfortable existence. Wealth with less hassle than fighting for a crown of a realm he is not raised in and has little loyalty for.
Would Robert be pleased so long as there is no push for Aegon’s claim?
What of Rhaenys?
Robert is king…he’ll find a bride to get with child soon enough, even if it’s not the one he wanted. A son by him or his brothers; perhaps the youngest brother, even. But, for a son it would be much better to have Rhaenys as a bride to bind the claims. Aegon will not fight his sister for a land or people who discarded him…
Even if Robert balks at the idea of binding Rhaenys to one of his children, Perennis had other grandchildren…perhaps the newest one is girl they would put forth, if not Rhaenys…
He glares at the old man.
That would be something that would appeal to Perennis, wouldn’t it? He was denied a crown, but, either Elia’s daughter that is raised in his son’s household or a granddaughter of his own body would do nicely to give to Robert. Whichever girl Perennis can offer binds the branches of the Targaryens in a peaceful union.
The Tyroshi still remains silent but his shoulders shake with suppressed laugher.
The Targaryen-yet-not turns back to them, “I cannot help you. I cannot house you. I am certain my Vaelor will not. You must go.”
Perennis is interrupted by a voice that chills him to the bone.
“Speaking about me father?”
They all turn towards the source. He barely registers Oswell’s muffled curse. Ser Gerold goes as white as the cloaks they no longer wear. Lady Lyanna was near tears as she clutched her child tighter.
Horrified by the sight he looks away from the man almost immediately. But, there is no pretending he has not seen and nowhere else he could look that could make the sight before him any less than an abomination.
Gods, no!
It was bad enough that Perennis and that cousin of his wore the look of their ancestry, but, this…is an affront.
This new man had Prince Rhaegar’s face!
The only difference was that his prince was dead.
Now smiling, Perennis’ voice booms out, “Come, my son. Before you attend to your betrothed, her delightful children, and your future brother, greet our visitors. I would have your opinion on a matter.”
As the man came closer the purple the man had donned, and something sour fills his mouth as he realizes the color was nearly identical to the gown Princess Elia wore. It only made this man’s indigo eyes more vibrant in a way Rhaegar’s could no longer be. While Rhaegar’s face bore nothing but trust in him, this man, Vaelor’s only shows mild curiosity as it combs over the sight of them.
He can see Vaelor’s mind working, but, the moderate expression on his face does not last long. Whatever conviviality the man could be capable of was completely gone when the once Targaryen Prince reveals their identities. Those damnably familiar eyes flick towards again Lady Lyanna and the bundle she carries again before he shakes his head.
Father and son start speaking in some version of Valyrian, but he only caught the word ‘Vaella’ and he flushes when the man with Rhaegar’s face laughs in a way Rhaegar never had. What had the old man said? Had he recounted what the Targaryen princess thought?
Fate is cruel because there was affection in this man’s face and in the tone. The affection in it only grew when he caught the name “Elia” spilling from this Vaelor.
Vaelor gives his father a fond look as the pair switch to the common tongue, “I have no desire to take such a risk. However, if that is your will, Father, I will, of course, not gainsay your wisdom.”
A risk! He was…he had been, the Sword of Morning. Now, even this stranger calls him a risk! It was like being in front of Allem again.
Elia washed her hands of them. Her casual dismissal made it obvious she would not help them and Maegor Perennis and his son said all they could so plainly!
Of course, Perennis nods. “I agree.”
A blur of a silver-haired child lets out a whoop of joy before rushing towards Vaelor. The green-haired Tyroshi follows at the boy’s heels.
Aegon!
Brightly, Prince Rhaegar’s son tells Vaelor, “You’re home!”
Vaelor smiles. “I am.”
The boy, practically bouncing with excitement, demands to know, “Did you bring me anything from the markets?”
Vaelor laughs, delighted, “Of course, my dear boy; for you and your sister.”
The Tyroshi with the red hair, who has been hearing it all, laughs, “We will make a proper Tyroshi out of him yet!”
Even as his heart sinks at the surety, the other Tyroshi, with the green hair, takes his fill of Vaelor and sneers, “We haven’t managed with you!”
Vaelor turns towards the man, laughing outright. “Not this again, Ruz.”
Though Aegon laughs delightedly and the Tyroshi with the red hair is clearly amused, he does not understand.
The Tyroshi, Ruz, huffs as he gestures. “I do not like it.”
Vaelor rolls his eyes. “It is the natural color of my hair.”
Aegon giggles.
The Tyroshi argues, “You are better at paying attention to the customs here”.
Vaelor nods agreeably as he picks Aegon up to settle him against his waist. He tries not to vomit. The gesture was smoothly done. It spoke of a frequency which disturbed him. Aegon leaned his head into Vaelor’s neck. This was far too comfortable.
Rhaegar never got a chance to do this his boy! Either of them. Now, he never will.
Gods! This was obscene.
Vaelor announces to Ruz: “I am. Still, I should at least marry in my natural coloring.”
Bile rises in his throat at the reminder. Despite himself, he glances towards Lady Lyanna who was looking at Vaelor transfixed. Vaelor, he noted, had not spared them a glance since this interruption.
Vaelor turns to the child, smiling lightly. “Besides, Aegon likes my hair this color. Don’t you, my boy? Tell Ruz the truth.”
The boy lifts his head and beams at both those men. “It is like mine.” Such sweet words were sour to him. The boy had his father’s hair, but, his father was dead. And yet, here was this man…
The Tyroshi even deigns to smile indulgently at the young boy. "Very well, little prince, just for you I shall forgive your new father for not having colored his hair as a proper man of Tyrosh ought to. But, I shall expect better from you, when you are old enough.”
New father? His outrage swells. How dare they?
He nearly growls at Aegon’s eager nod.
Before he can force out the words, the high and bright tone he recognizes of Rhaenys burst into the chambers.
She asks eagerly of Vaelor, “Can I pick the color, next?”
Still with Aegon in his arms, Vaelor sinks to one knee smiling benevolently at Prince Rhaegar’s daughter. “My darling, you can if it is alright with your mama.” Then, from his spot, he glances up to Elia, who’d also returned and was now watching the scene from the arched pathway. “What do you say, my love?”
Something heavy sits in his throat as he watches the man with Rhaegar’s face pay court to the princess in a way so open and so unlike the way his prince had done with the same woman.
He looks away, but, not before noticing the way Prince Oberyn’s gaze was fixed upon him.
Rhaenys jumps up and down excitedly, pleading sweetly, “Mother, please?”
Elia smiles generously as she makes her way to where now Vaelor stood. She says, “Of course, sweetling. Whatever you like.”
As Princess Rhaenys cheers, Princess Elia gives Vaelor a wicked smirk. “Do not come crying to me if she decides on the brightest rose she can find.”
Both Prince Oberyn and the Tyroshi burst out laughing.
What he cannot ignore is how Vaelor gives Rhaenys a loving pat on the head which has the little princess giggling or the way Vaelor draws Elia into a deep kiss after that.
Despite himself, he looked at where Lady Lyanna sat. She was almost trembling.
He turned away quickly enough to hear Vaelor say, “It would be a small sacrifice for the happiness of my family.”
Though Princess Elia smiled at that, his hand twitches, eager to take up the borrowed sword at his hip.
The nerve of this man! To claim which was not his!
Before he can make a move, Prince Oberyn gives him a warning look.
He swallows as Princess Rhaenys giggles again. “I would never do that!”
Vaelor smiles at her. “I thank you very much for being so understanding, my sweet.”
He tries to ignore Prince Oberyn muttering to the Tyroshi, “Were it not Vaelor or Aegon, I would prefer the pink to the silver.” The Tyroshi grins back at the prince.
Seeing the easy camaraderie, he forces down the scream threatening to pull itself from his throat. It’s a painful reminder of his time at the Water Gardens and at Starfall…of a time gone by; one he can never reclaim again.
Aegon, still clutched into Vaelor’s side and now holding the sleeve of Vaelor’s tunic in a hand, chirps, “I like the purple.”
“Me as well,” Rhaenys chimes in.
Elia smirks, amused. “That settles it, I suppose.”
Vaelor gives her another fond look. “So, it does. Purple, after the wedding.”
The pair, soon to be wed, smile at one another again. It was as though they were utterly besotted. It nearly makes him retch.
But, the words Vaelor begins to say has his throat run dry. “What is your desire about them, my love?”
Vaelor had not spoken in the Common Tongue or Valyrian this time.
His eyes burn now.
The language of the Rhoyne.
Rhaegar never bothered to learn the language, that ‘officially’ was not spoken even in Dorne. But, they were not in Dorne or in any other part of Westeros, now were they?
And yet, the words themselves. He knew the pair would speak about them, but, “My love”?
“My dear” and “my princess” used to be Rhaegar’s words for his wife. This man may have Rhaegar’s face but he wasn’t the same at all.
The princess turns towards him briefly. She knows he can understand what Vaelor asked. Vaelor’s lips curl into a smile; he knew too.
The princess looks back firmly towards the man with her former husband’s face. In the language of the Rhoynar, their shared people, she says, “I do not want to see any of them, ever again.”
“Whatever pleases you.” Vaelor replies easily, as he brushes a strand of Princess Elia’s hair back.
Prince Oberyn only spoke about silver hair a moment ago. He supposed that was the point of Vaelor Perennis, wasn’t it? This Targaryen who was more Tyroshi and who had no regard for what a fallen prince might have wanted. This was a man who took the family the other prince left behind for his own.
Yet, for however many smiles this man has for Princess Elia, his eyes harden when they pull away to look at them again. “Elia, Father, perhaps go ahead. My dear brother and I shall show our guests out. We shall not be long.”
Just show them out. And he sounds so certain.
Princess Elia catches his eyes. For a moment he dares hope. But, even that is dashed when she turns her attention back to her children. “Come now, I believe there are lemon cakes that need eating, let Vaelor and your uncle see to our guests.”
Maegor Perennis takes Aegon from Vaelor. “Right you are, my daughter. Come along, my dears.”
The children do not look at him for very long, if they do at all. Aegon had barely been a few weeks old when he saw the boy last, but, even Princess Rhaenys did not seem to remember them. He tries not to let it sting. After all, can he blame them? Even the little princess was little more than a baby when he decided to follow her sire’s orders. Princess Rhaenys only glances at them curiously before grasping at her mother’s hand. Aegon had already turned away, eagerly chattering at Perennis and the Tyroshi guard.
His throat goes tighter the fainter the sounds get.
Once quiet settles around them, Vaelor turns to his remaining man. “Show our guests out, Ruz. They are not to return.”
“You will not hear us?”
Vaelor shrugs. “I heard all I need to hear. I know all I need to know.”
Oberyn’s shakes his head. “The wedding is soon. There will be many of our people, Robert’s as well. You will want to be gone before then.”
The Martells want him gone goes unsaid, this time.
He wonders, “And after? We need to protect Rhaegar’s children.”
Now Prince Oberyn’s notoriously short temper seemed to snap. The prince stalks towards him, “Do not pretend you care about my sister’s children.” The prince’s face darkens as he gestures towards his companions. “That you brought them here proves that it is not my sister’s or her children’s’ peace you are concerned with.”
He almost puts his hands up reflexively, but, Vaelor’s voice booms out: “Enough!”
Prince Oberyn nods towards Vaelor in a way he never has for his sister’s last husband.
Vaelor’s gaze turned towards him. It makes him ill how much this man looks like Prince Rhaegar because he so clearly is not him. “You must go. I have no place for any of you.”
He tries, one last time. He has nothing left to lose. “A man such as yourself always needs men about who know their arms.”
If anything, the man with Prince Rhaegar’s face turns stern, “I will not have you. My father does not seem keen on the idea and as it is, you and your companions have distressed my bride far too much.”
Though he tries not to, he jumps uncomfortably at the word ‘bride’ and even more knowing how true such a statement is.
“Not even for her children?”
The man with Rhaegar’s face argues, “Their protection has already been seen to.”
For once Prince Oberyn’s gaze softens. “Away with you, Arthur. You need not concern yourself about my sister or her children now.”
He asks, “Because I concerned myself with others before?”
Because it came back to that, didn’t it? He had not cared to do it, when they would have counted upon it. And now, it was clearly too late.
For a moment Prince Oberyn’s lips pull back into a snarl.
Then, the moment passes and the Dornish prince shakes his head. “Arthur, you know better than to ask a question when you already know the answer. All you do is waste your time and ours.”
By the time Prince Oberyn was done speaking, Vaelor handed the Tyroshi a large pouch.
Vaelor says, “This will ensure they have enough to find passage elsewhere. Ruz, we have entertained this farce long enough.”
The Tyroshi turns stern. “Follow me, if you would.”
With that the man with Prince Rhaegar’s face and Princess Elia’s brother turned away from them.
It was only when they were beyond the gates that the Tyroshi spoke while trying to hand him the pouch. “This is enough coin to take you to any other city and to seek enough lodging for a while. Pick any city; though, best not try Lys. Braavos would be good as any to disappear in. There is good coin to be made there, a life fit for men good at arms.”
To hell with coin! And to hell with such a life!
He insists, “We cannot just leave.”
The Tyroshi shakes his head and says flatly. “You cannot stay here.” The Tyroshi sighs, “There is nothing for you.”
It was quite clear they are not wanted. They heard it in countless ways today. And still, Gerold starts, “Prince Rhae-”
The Tyroshi interrupts. “Is of no consequence. I do not think I can understand most of you from the west. What good is this loyalty towards he who cannot return it? The dead cannot help you fill your belly.”
“You did not know Prince Rhaegar. He charged us to protect his family.”
At that, the Tyroshi sneers. “Is that supposed to mean something when from what I know you three abandoned the one behind these gates before.”
He lets out an unsteady breath. So, this man was not just a mere servant of this house. Clearly, he was trusted with some secrets.
As he had been to Rhaegar, this man was to Vaelor? He is starting to suspect as much because Vaelor had sent this man to show them out. Then again, what does he know of Vaelor besides Princess Elia trusts him in a way she stopped trusting Prince Rhaegar?
Once, she trusted him too. Perhaps, this man was now her Arthur. Then again, Arthur had been Rhaegar’s. Perhaps this Ruz was different in a way that Vaelor was different.
He cannot bring himself to look at his companions as he admits, “I did not want to.”
The Tyroshi calmly returns, “You did it anyway.”
Yes, they did.
He did.
If he had only learned the cost of doing so.
No…he knew the cost of only following orders of both his last king and his prince. He’d stopped following his king to follow his prince and now because of his prince’s orders, his princess does not require his protection. Now, she’d found someone else to protect hers and her own children because his prince had not, and he did not.
But, unlike his prince, he was the one who must live with knowing that.
In that moment the Tyroshi’s scorn turned into pity. “I cannot give you what you want and none of them in there are willing to give it to you. I can assure you of that, the Princess and her children are safe with us. They will want for nothing. Even your Baratheon will not touch them now.”
It is on the tip of his tongue to say that Baratheon is nothing to him except an enemy, but he refrains this time. There was no point, was there? Baratheon was not at these gates, was he? Baratheon was not the one unwelcome.
That was him.
As much as it pained him, that was him now.
He had been the Sword of the Morning, the man who wielded Dawn.
Now, he was not.
He draws an uncommonly unsteady breath.
He looks at the gates closed to him. His prince was dead. The princess was marrying someone else. The children saw someone else as their father. His family would not have him back. The rest of Dorne left him behind. The rest of Westeros will not have him unless dead or in chains.
Kingsguard do not flee.
Yet, he is not a Kingsguard anymore.
Still, he was one once and a Kingsguard does what was ordered, and he has been ordered to go.
He takes the offered pouch.