A Voyage Home

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(Circa 295-296AC)

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“What be so special about this brat?”

“That is personal,” I replied dryly as I leaned back on the cheap chair I was in, using the wall as a better backrest than the creaky chair. I kept my head angled so my hood still covered my face, while a thin cloth I wore over my eyes hid their vibrant colour. The group I was with was at a table on one corner of a shithole somewhere near the docks of White Harbour. “And none of your business,” I added, allowing more of the accent I knew from the Earth memories to come through. I needed to hide the hints of Dorne in my voice to further disguise my identity because of why I was in this pile of piss that somehow passed for a tavern.

The group of eight on the other side of the table, some sitting, some not, shifted. Their agitation at my vagueness was easy to sense. I reached into my cloak, noting which of these gutter-trash made moves for a weapon. “This is all that need concern you.” I tossed a small purse onto the table, the coin inside jiggling around as it hit the wood.

Two of the three who were seated leaned forward to grab the purse. Before they knew it, or any of them could draw their weapons, I leaned forward, driving my dagger into the table between them and the purse. The dagger wasn’t the one Oberyn had given me, but one I’d acquired about a week ago from a drunk in an alley near the docks when I’d been wandering the city, getting the lay of the land before I put this plan into motion. “You only get that if you take the job.”

[Just kill him now and take his coin.] One of those standing said in Trade-Talk, the bastardised language used by sailors around the Narrow Sea. I could speak it a little, but Comprehension translated everything said in any tongue I wasn’t fluent in; even going so far as to translate High Valyrian words that I’d not learnt when I was taught them by a Maester or other learned figure. I made no reaction to the threat, though since this man was also one of those to have a hand near his weapon, he’d be the one killed as an example if this group got uppity.

“How much is the pay?” One of the seated thugs, the one who’d not reached for the purse, asked. His eyes danced between the purse and my face, showing a grain of intelligence; something most of the thugs I’d been dealing with lacked.

“Fifteen Dragons here and now,” I replied slowly, enjoying the way any thoughts of attacking me disappeared when I revealed the purse contained a small fortune; at least for this rabble. Like each of the previous groups I’d hired for this job, this lot was motivated by coin. Which was precisely why I was in this fucking place, damaging my sense of smell with the stench. Several of the group glanced nervously, suspiciously around. Their eyes danced over their brethren. That was never a great sign, but I’d take some of them doing it to none. If that happened, I’d be concerned they might have the balls and coordination to try and take me on. So long as their looks stayed on each other or the purse, I could work with them. “If you bring the head to Sunspear, I shall give you another thirty-five. Make that eighty-five if the target is alive and mostly intact.”

As had happened with each of the last four groups, all eyes shot to me as I added that. If fifteen Dragons was a small fortune to these men, then a hundred was enough for them, and their children, to live decent lives. Yet to me, paying a hundred and sixty Dragons to have Ramsay fucking Bolton removed from the board before anyone realised he was a piece was worth it. The fucker was a loose cannon in the show, and undoubtedly worse in the books. The sooner he was gone, the better things would be for me and everyone else.

Now, I only knew passing information about Domeric Bolton, but nothing I’d heard painted him as a second coming of his father. Which was both a relief and a shame. For all the issues I had with Roose, he was a good commander from what I understood, and the North would require that intelligence for the battles and wars to come. I still wouldn’t trust the Leech lord half as far as I could throw him, but it was better to have him on the side of the Starks than that of others. After the Wildlings and Others were dealt with, provided we both survived, I’d see about removing him from the board as well if needed.

“That be a lot for a bastard,” the self-imposed leader said slowly, his eyes searching the shadows covering my face. “What he do to ya?”

I smirked as that was almost word-for-word the same thing each of the previous four groups had asked. “So far, nothing. And I would like it to stay that way.” My reply was slow as I kept my tone as emotionless as I could. Along with keeping my accent and features hidden, I wanted there to be no hint about who I was or where I came from for these morons to remember. On the off chance any of them had enough brain cells to think two steps ahead, I didn’t want them to link me to Roose’s bastard. Not when they might decide to inform the Leech lord and get a better chance at a payday than dragging a boy to Dorne.

At the insistence of the seeming leader, the group pulled back, whispering amongst themselves. They, like the other groups, used Trade Talk to discuss things. I only caught bits and pieces of their slowly heating conversation, but as with the others, there was a split forming. Some of the group wanted to attack me, to take whatever I had and run, while the rest were pushing for the full one hundred Dragons that would come with fulfilling the contract. Hopefully, this group would be more useful than the one from three nights ago.

That group had been almost a lost cause when five of the group of nine had jumped the others and me in an attempt to gain all the coin. I’d killed three of them personally and as fun as that had been I'd rather finish this business, while the other two had taken out an equal number of those wanting to try for the contract. I didn’t think the pair that was left would be able to manage the contract, but at least, unlike the other groups, they didn’t walk away arguing about running off with my money.

“Fine. You have got a deal,” the leader said once the group broke from their huddle after less than a minute. That wasn’t the fastest a group had agreed to the contract, but not the slowest either. “How will we find you in Sunspear?”

I smiled, glad this group, unlike the first, had the common sense to ask that before they’d started to leave. “Head to the Sunset Rose and inform the matron that you wish to speak to the Red Eagle. If I do not hear from you within half a year, I shall consider that rejection of our agreement and return to White Harbour looking for reimbursement.” The leader and a few others nodded in understanding, while some, mainly those who seemed quick to choose violence, scowled. I doubted I’d return, but the threat I might encourage them to complete the contract.

The whole Red Eagle concept was something I’d worked on while I’d been a forced guest of Lord Wyman. It was vague enough that I could use the alias again without it having any obvious links to me; well beyond this contract being given in White Harbour while Prince Oberyn’s group was here. Still, few would suspect Oberyn or me of arranging this hit, so it should be fine. The Sunset Rose was another problem though.

It was a whorehouse near the docks in Sunspear that I’d seen often enough while going to and from the Windchaser. While I didn’t know the matron – mainly as I wasn’t sure who would’ve skinned me alive first from my mother, Arianne or Ty – it was popular with sailors. All I had to do when I returned to Sunspear was reach an agreement with the owner to ensure that I was made aware of someone coming to meet the Red Eagle. That would probably require me to purchase an interest in the business, at the very least, for which I planned to talk with Oberyn once we were away from the North. Hopefully, I didn’t have to replace the lady-in-charge of the brothel, but if I did, then so be it.

I’d dismissed the idea of having any of these fools, or the others I’d hired, come to the palace itself almost as soon as I’d set this plan in motion. Apart from not wanting them to know they’d been hired by someone connected to the Martells, they’d never get through any of the gates that led inside.

“Seems simple enough. Anything else ya want ta tell us?”

“No. Though I will remind you that even though your target is a bastard, his father will not look kindly on an attempt on the boy. I am sure if he discovers you, he will have… methods to force you to regret your capture.” I doubted Roose would skin any of them, though he might. While the Boltons were meant to have given up that practice after being brought to heel by the Starks millennia ago, if they didn’t still have the resources to do so, I’d eat Red Rain. Still, the fear that Roose might engage in the historical customs of his house did make a few of the group pale; just as I’d intended.

“Aye, want ta avoid that.”

Giving the leader a nod, I pulled my dagger from the table, though not before using the tip to catch the purse and flick it toward him. He scooped it up before one of the men behind him could, which earned him scowls from the others.

With their attention on the purse, I stood, enjoying the way they all tensed. Each of them looked like they knew how to scrap, but I was taller than all. Broader than most as well. My cloak slid back enough to expose a sword on my hip; one made of castle-forged steel to make clear I wasn’t some run-of-the-mill felon. “Then our business is concluded.”

I stepped to one side of the table, fixing the two thugs there with a glance, the pair scrambled back, feeling less secure now I was close and properly armed. After giving them a nod of thanks, I stepped passed, turning back to face the group once I’d cleared them all. “Oh, before I forget,” I said, clicking my fingers as if just remembering. “You are not the first group I have hired, nor will you be the last, so I would get moving. However, if you turn up with the wrong head or boy,” I grinned, exposing my teeth even as I caused the wind to brush the backs of their necks and fingered the steel sword at my hip, “let’s just say your trip to Dorne will last you a lifetime.”

With that threat dropped, I walked away. The sooner I was out of this shithole, and able to wash the stench off, the better. I tossed a stag to the bartender as I passed, indicating the table I’d come from. He nodded in understanding I was paying for another round or two for the group, hopefully showing them I wasn’t bluffing about there being more coin on offer.

Now all that remained was convincing my father of the investment, returning to Sunspear, and gaining control of the sunset Rose. And, of course, ensuring my mother never learnt of this. Well, I also had to hope the description I’d given based on the show, matched Ramsay in this world. I suspected his backstory was the same though since that was such a minor thing there’d be no reason to change it.

If the show had, then so be it. Spending a few hundred Dragons to potentially remove Ramsay from the board was a risk worth taking.

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I waited patiently as Oberyn stared at me from across the table in my cabin onboard the Windchaser. We’d left White Harbour the day before with three escorts, one being the Martell ship that had come with us from Dorne while the other two bore the sigil of House Manderly, and I’d decided it was time we talked about several things.

The only reason I’d waited this long was to ensure we passed the Three Sisters without incident. While nominally under the control of the Vale, the lords of the Sisters were known to turn a blind eye to pirates that attacked ships bound to and from White Harbour. Hells, the North and the Vale had gone to war over the islands perhaps a hundred times before Aegon’s Conquest. Now that we were in clear waters, the talk I'd been putting off since Oberyn had revealed he knew of my magic could take place, though first I’d brought up another matter.

“When you said we needed to talk, I didn’t expect this would be the topic you’d start with,” Oberyn remarked as he picked up his mug of ale.

I summoned a small ball of fire in the palm of my hand. “We shall get to this,” I began as the balls shifted into a viper, “soon enough. I just wanted my proposal out of the way first.” As I continued to speak, the fire-viper curled lazily through the air over the table, taking a sedate path toward my father. As the viper moved, Oberyn lowered his mug, watching the way the flames mimicked a snake. I knew instinctively how a snake moved because of Kaa, it didn’t just imitate how he moved, but accurately depicted it.

Once the fire-viper was close enough, he lifted his hand, letting the flames move around his fingers though I made sure they never touched his skin. While he’d likely not be bothered by the heat, I wanted to show the level of control I had over the fire.

“Impressive. I have seen fire mages in Essos who spent decades learning their art never manage to create something so beautiful and defined with their flames.” He moved his hand, cutting through the fire-viper and I let it dispel. While I could reform it, there was little need to do so. “As you say though, that is a matter for later. For now, you wish me to consider helping you purchase a brothel in the Shadow City. Have my daughter's actions so turned you against her, her sisters and cousin that you wish to fuck a whore? If so, there are easier and cheaper, ways to accomplish that.”

“This had nothing to do with Ty, father, or the rest of our family,” which was an odd as fuck thing now I’d bedded one stepsister and planned to do the same for at least two more and her cousin. “I just feel a brothel is a reliable source of income. Among other things.”

Oberyn chuckled and shook his head. “I am unsure if I should be amused or concerned that the first investment you wish to make is in such a place, no doubt your mother will blame me.” He leaned forward and I understood he wanted me to explain my reasoning.

“Aye, it does seem like an odd choice, but I have been thinking long about how to use my coin. While I have several ideas I wish to discuss with you and Prince Doran, the idea of purchasing a brothel is a more… delicate matter.” He smirked at my word choice. “Apart from them being a reliable source of income, at least so long as trade is flowing, there is something else they are dependable for.” I leaned forward, letting a sinister smile grow on my face. “Information.” Oberyn nodded, completely understanding. “Something I have learnt over the last few months is that when in bed with a beautiful young lady, a man often reveals more than he perhaps should. Hells, even just being around them can make a man’s tongue loosen.”

While I’d not told Ty anything that might affect the future, some of what I’d hinted at may well have influenced her insane decision to help Alysanne sneak out of Winterfell. Now, I hadn’t talked with Ty to see if that was the truth, or anything really as I was still struggling to come to terms with my anger at what she’d done. However, replaying everything I’d said to her since the tourney in Gulltown, I’d realised that I’d hinted I was more interested in meeting up with Alysanne than my other cousins. Working from that, and the reveal of the dragon egg and Alysanne maybe being able to wield fire magic, I could see the path Ty had taken that led her to do what she did.

Now, that didn’t mean I was ready to forgive her, and instead of sharing my bed, she was cabin-sharing with Alysanne and Wylla while Beron and Oberyn shared another cabin. The last two cabins on the Windchaser, at least the ones under the top deck, were being used by Ser Jory Cassel, Ser Karsan Brightlight, a knight loyal to House Manderly and two knights from Dorne. The rest of the guard for the various houses were spread out among the escort ships, along with five of the Windchaser’s twenty-man crew.

Before we’d left White Harbour, I’d pushed for Oberyn to take the main cabin, as he’d done on the voyage up from Dorne. However, he’d insisted that since I was almost at the age of taking command of the vessel, and with Ymir needing room to run around without being a nuisance on the exposed decks, I should take the main cabin. Still, the room was limited as several chests of personal items, including the one containing Alysanne’s egg and bow, were stored in here to create more room in the other cabins and keep their contents away from the crew. Though since those had all been hand-selected by Oberyn and Larazar over the years, they were rather trustworthy.

“Aye, women seem to know instinctively how to loosen the tongue of a man. That said, how would the rumours and stories of sailors be of interest to our family or you?”

I smirked and as I leaned back in my chair, took a sip from my mug. While the ale we had onboard wasn’t great, it was better than the rum; at least for a talk such as this. Still, I hoped that when we stopped in Gulltown for resupply before the long sail to Sunspear we picked up some ale there. What I’d had at the tourney and the short sail to White Harbour afterwards was a gentle, slightly sweet ale that I’d enjoyed sharing with Ty.

I shook my head a single time, once more banishing memories of her from my immediate thoughts. “Likely the rumours would never affect us. However, apart from learning tales from the Narrow and Summer Seas and beyond, brothels and taverns are places where the common folk speak of a great many things. Things that might be of some use to us regarding events further afield, or even to grant a general understanding of how they feel about their overlords. At a guess, there is what? A hundred-plus places in the Shadow City that are rife with rumour and innuendo. Where whispered words from a servant in the palace, or another keep in Westeros, might filter through. I would be shocked if the owners of such places did not have ways to sell the more interesting rumours to those in positions of power; people not always friendly toward Dornish interests.”

After saying my piece, I went quiet, waiting for Oberyn’s response. He took a long sip from his mug and then rubbed at his beard. Eventually, after what felt like a few minutes, he laughed and shook his head. “And again, you show your time spent in books was not for nought.” He leaned forward, a smile coming easily to his face. “Regarding the selling of rumours and whispers, there is little to stop the owners of such establishments from selling what they learn to others. Nor the owners of various stalls and shops dotted around Sunspear. Which is why, for centuries now, House Martell has provided some of these proprietors a small stipend. While we can’t control what they hear, we can ensure that enough of them understand that we should be their first source for selling that information.”

I’d expected the Martells to have some way to control the flow of information in Sunspear, but I was a touch disappointed at how limited it was. All it took was bribing a member of the city watch or passing on only some of the rumours one heard, for the system to fail.

“And what is to stop someone else from doing the same? Or offering a larger stipend to those places with greater footfall, if not controlling them outright?” I asked, figuring I could use how Baelish grew his powerbase as my reasoning here. “Every city, every town has at least a dozen brothels and taverns. A smart person could, quietly, arrange for a controlling interest in such places. Thus, across all of say, Dorne, or even further, they develop a network of people who pass them the juiciest rumours and whispers. Such a person, with such information, could, in theory, guide a kingdom in the direction they wish. What is to stop them?”

“Me,” Oberyn replied with deadly certainty, a razor smile on his face and his eyes flashing coldly in the light of the lamps. The idea of murdering a random person who wasn’t entirely loyal to his family was such a casual thought that he didn’t even need to think about it. I was fine with that, though I was surprised at how open and quick he’d been with the response. “That and the proprietors of such places change with a rather disturbing regularity. Often this is the work of various criminal elements or smugglers wishing to control fronts to move their ill-gotten goods.”

“Then bring those groups under control. Or at least ensure that the leaders of the larger groups understand that they operate only because House Martell allows it,” I shot back which seemed to catch Oberyn off-guard. While I’d rather there not be any such groups in a city, I wasn’t naive enough to believe that could be achieved. No, it was better that the major players, whoever they were, were brought in on the operation. Their loyalty ensured with coin and threat.

Now, I had fuck-all interest in being some sort of shadowy Kingpin of the underworld of Sunspear – or any city for that matter – but I understood they needed to be brought to heel. At least those that I was willing to allow to exist. If there was a slaving operation in Sunspear, or one peddling drugs that caused death, I’d personally enjoy leading the watch to hunt them down and string them up for their crimes.

Oberyn reclined on his seat, his fingers stroking the coarse hairs of his beard as he contemplated the words of his interlocutor. "Hmm," he murmured, "I must concede that your grasp of the complexities of the Shadow City is impressive. My great-grandfather, too, endeavoured to tame the criminal element that festers within its dark alleys and twisted lanes. Alas, his efforts led to a reckoning that thrust my mother onto the Sun Throne far sooner than anticipated."

The Prince of Dorne paused a glint in his eye betraying his interest. "Yet I cannot say I would not relish the challenge of bringing them to heel."

I nodded in acceptance. He hadn’t shut down my idea of purchasing the Sunset Rose or taking control of crime in Sunspear, which I’d feared he’d do. It wasn’t an instant agreement, but I never expected to get one now anyway. Still, regardless of how the talks with Doran and Oberyn went, I’d approach the owner of the Sunset Rose and ensure that I would be made aware of any that arrived in the next year wishing to speak to the Red Eagle. The name was, I admitted, a little silly, but it wasn’t one that could instantly be linked to me. Or at least I hoped it couldn’t.

“Now, with that out of the way, perhaps we should talk about your skills. Particularly those you have tried to keep hidden from me for several years.”

“How long have you known?” I asked after taking a sip of my ale. I needed to work out the timeline of when he learnt, and then determine who else knew. Doran was highly likely, and while I’d hinted to my mother many years ago that I had magic, I’d never confirmed it. If she knew the truth she’d have already questioned me about it, or at the very least, after pressure from Oberyn and Doran, given me concerned looks that would’ve hinted at something being wrong. Since I couldn’t see any such looks in my memory, I felt reasonably certain she wasn’t in on the secret.

“I first suspected you were keeping something from me in Braavos,” He began as a wide smile split his face. “All that time spent frolicking around with my niece, often in or near a pool, was hard to ignore. I thought perhaps you and she were closer than I believed likely due to your age, however, I discounted that. Arianne has never been shy about her feelings, no matter how she tries, and while it is clear she cares deeply for you, I know nothing happened like that in Braavos. Though the concern you both had about me discovering why you were sneaking off to the pools held my interest even after our return to Sunspear.”

“When Arianne returned a year later, and her eyes sought you out over everyone else in our family, that interest returned. It grew stronger when, after the feast to celebrate her return, she took you to her room. The guard outside told me that you had both sounded happy, though not of the kind caused by fucking like rabbits like you and Tyene were prone to do until recently.”

My head fell back as he mentioned Arianne’s return to Dorne, and a groan slipped from my lips. “And she thought she was being careful sneaking me into her room,” I muttered before laughing. I’d been worried about someone having seen her taking me from the feast, but since no one had brought it up, I’d dismissed concerns that people might think we were up to something. Or at least something that wasn’t magic-related.

“I do admit that until Tyene bedded you, I wondered if I may have missed the signs of you bedding my niece. I can see that now that was not the case, though once we return to Sunspear, that situation is unlikely to last.”

My brow rose at how casually he was implying he expected me to bed Arianne. Fucking his daughters, and my stepsisters, was one thing, but Arianne was the future ruler of Dorne. His complete lack of concern, verging almost on encouraging me to bed her, was unexpected. “How are you so calm about that happening?” I wasn’t going to lie about wanting to bed her. Arianne, like Ty, Nymeria and Sarella – though she had several years of growth still to go – was a beauty who could turn heads with ease. Yet Arianne was also the Princess of Dorne and the one girl who I feared could make me spill all my secrets after I’d bedded her. Though that concern wasn’t going to stop me from bedding her if the chance arose to do so.

“Cregan, we are Dornish, as you well know, though maybe the time spent with Lady Catelyn has dulled the knowledge,” Oberyn said with a chuckle as my eye twitched. “Like my daughters, Arianne is free to bed whomever she wishes. Be they man or woman. However, she and you must understand that in the future she will be expected to marry a trueborn noble and assume the throne of Dorne. She is destined to rule, so what you may share with her cannot be more than what I share with Ellaria.” He leaned forward, a smile full of love developing on his face. “I love her deeply; perhaps more so than your mother, but even for me who is not due to inherit anything, marrying a bastard is difficult. More so because Arianne and I are from House Martell and must set a standard as a Great House of Westeros.”

I blinked, caught off-guard by the revelation regarding his feelings and the situation he was in. I knew he loved both women but had always suspected he cared more for Ellaria. While others would be angered to hear their father loved his paramour more than their mother, I wasn’t. Ellaria was someone he was with for love from the beginning, while love had taken time with my mother. Still, to hear him admit that, and that he couldn’t have married Ellaria when he might’ve wanted to, was unexpected.

“I am surprised you are so relaxed about me having magic,” I said, moving the topic back to magic, and away from matters of the heart. I knew the topic of me and Arianne would be revisited at some point in the next year or so, but for now, I’d rather not focus on that. Nor wade into his love life.

Oberyn shrugged and a small smile came to his face as he tried to push aside feelings linked to his reveal. “To many in Westeros magic is a mark of something demonic, but I have travelled enough of the world to know that is not the case. It is simply another ability for those able to use it to learn, though there is certainly quite a lot of danger inherent in doing so.” He chuckled and looked toward one of the windows of the cabin that was currently open. “As I said there are few who I have seen who can do what you do, and they had decades to learn. The only ones who come close are the Red Priests of R’hllor who have studied the flames for longer than even I have been alive. Though I am thankful you do not seem inclined toward their more… questionable practices. And you have gained that level of control in, what, five or six years?”

“About that, yes,” I responded calmly. No need to let him know I’d started toying with magic when I’d been five. “You are ok with Arianne knowing magic?”

Oberyn leaned forward once more, his smile growing. “Why would I not be?" He purred "She is of my blood, and will one day be the ruler of Dorne. I wish for her to be as safe as possible, and with magic that only increases. As it does for my daughters, though I will not deny the risk.” A glint sparked in his eyes, his lips twisting into a savage grin. Were it not for the fact that he held me dear as kin, I would have trembled in fear for my very existence. Hells, a chill coursed down my back all the same. “And now that you know I know, you shall teach me as well.”

I let out a faint, uneasy chuckle. The notion of instructing Oberyn Martell in the art of Water Magic was one I had long anticipated, ever since I became aware of his knowledge. Still, the prospect of a man so adept in the ways of poisons mastering such arcane sorcery was nothing short of chilling. Though I had faith he would not turn it against me, I could not deny the surge of trepidation at the thought of his newfound power. My father had taught me about poisons, and I knew well that most were liquid in form and thus subject to manipulation by Water Magic. Oberyn had already drilled this into me, insisting I imbibe poisoned beverages to develop immunity. Arianne's displays of controlling wine had only reinforced this truth, as did the unsettling possibility that blood itself might fall under the purview of Water Magic, though I could not say for certain.

"Expected as much," I said, my tone measured and guarded. I strove to conceal any anxiety in my demeanour, though it was a difficult feat. "Not that I mind, of course. I shall be glad to impart what knowledge I possess."

"Excellent," Oberyn chuckled, his fingers tapping absently against his mug as he took a long draught. His gaze drifted away from me to the spot where Rian would roost when inside the cabin. The eagle was currently airborne, basking in the joys of a morning flight. I sensed a hint of contentment emanating from him, which likely meant he had caught his prey. "As much as I am intrigued by the concept of skinchanging and its inner workings, I doubt it is an ability linked to my blood."

“How did you work that out?” There was no need to keep my skinchanging hidden from him, not when he’d already gotten confirmation about my Fire Magic.

"Since Braavos, you have taken three animals as companions, not pets. Both Kaa and Rian are larger than their breeds are known to be. They are smarter too, almost as if they understand what we say around them. From that, and taking into account your father's ancestry from House Stark and your ability to manipulate fire, it was a simple leap to realize your other gift." As if he knew he had been called, Rian chose that moment to fly into the cabin. His wings extended half a second after passing through the window, and he flapped them rapidly and landed on his perch. In one set of talons, he held a fish, one still wriggling to escape his clutches. After looking at us, as if wondering why we were watching him, he reached down and ripped the head from the fish with contemptuous ease. "Further proof, as if any was needed," Oberyn added with a chuckle as he took a sip of his drink.

I groaned as fish guts fell onto the floor under the perch. While I’d placed a large sheet there, and washed it this morning, it already stank of dead fish. More than likely, I’d have to scrub the deck under the perch and change the cloth before we reached Gulltown, never mind Sunspear. The smell, and Rian’s tendency to arrive unannounced, was the only thing Ty had disliked about sharing my bed; or at least it had been until we’d moved his perch to her room. Sadly, I’d not had that option on this voyage.

"Aye, I owe him for what happened at the Wall," I said, one of Oberyn’s eyebrows rising with curiosity. "He warned me before Roryn Drumm loosed his first arrow. Without that, I would have likely died before anyone knew what was happening." Rian lifted the remains of the fish to his beak as I continued. "And it was him that guided me to Ymir."

"I had my suspicions about the latter, but the former caught me unawares." Oberyn inclined his head in gratitude towards Rian, who paid him no heed and continued to ravage the fish. Oberyn then turned his piercing gaze back towards me. "I have yet to divulge this to you, but there's no better time than now. Before we departed from Sunspear, Doran had received multiple offers from lords of Dorne, the Stormlands, and the Reach, proposing a union between Rian and an eagle of a different breed." My eyebrow arched in astonishment, eliciting a hearty laugh from my father. "Eagles are not known for their amiable nature, and a Sunfyre eagle, of all things, has never been raised by any lord. This alone piqued the curiosity of many, and with the rumours of his formidable size, interest spread across three kingdoms like wildfire."

My reaction was a mere grunt, but inwardly, I comprehended the reasoning behind those offers, despite being ignorant of their existence. After I had saved Rian from peril along with Ty and Jelissa Fowler, Oberyn and Lord Franklyn Fowler informed me that many lords and nobles kept birds of prey such as hawks and falcons, with only a select few raising eagles. Learning of the desire of other lords to attempt to mate one with Rian was intriguing. While I couldn't guarantee that any of the potential mates would be a suitable match for him, it presented an opportunity to forge alliances with influential lords across the three southern kingdoms of Westeros.

“Rian and those offers aside, I suspect that Ymir will draw the most attention when we return to Sunspear,” Oberyn commented. “Even with Beron Stark and Wylla Manderly in our party, seeing a direwolf in the North is almost unheard of. One in Dorne…” He smirked. “That will be the stuff of legends. Especially if he grows as Rian and Kaa have.”

I laughed in agreement with that. Ymir’s mother had been about the size of my horse, and from what I knew, male wolves generally were larger than females. Throw in the boost to size and intelligence that both Kaa and Rian had gained from me, and Ymir would rival a warhorse when he reached his peak.

I took another sip of my ale, wondering how many in Sunspear would wish to play with him now and possibly ride him when he was older.

… …

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… …

“Hey, you doing any…”

“Urgh.”

Beron groaned as his head sagged over a bucket, its odour assaulting my senses as soon as I opened the door to his cabin, answering my query before I could finish it. It was difficult to stifle my mirth upon witnessing his condition, especially when The Nine Voyages lay open on the bunk. It was amusing to think that Beron could idolize a man who had gained fame by sailing across Essos, only to succumb to seasickness shortly after departing from White Harbour. Alas, the nauseating stench within the cabin quashed any potential humour. Oberyn had taken up residence in my quarters on the second night, as Beron's ailment worsened, and we were nearing Gulltown, with no sign of improvement in Beron's condition.

Another groan from him forced a chuckle to escape my lips. He turned and glared at me from behind half-lidded eyes.

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"I apologize, but your countenance resembling the hues of House Velaryon is funny as fuck," I remarked, unable to contain my amusement. His scowl deepened, but another cough erupted, and I had to suppress my laughter. "I wonder what the Sea Snake would make of this," I added, my voice trembling with restrained mirth.

“F -fuck you,” Beron mumbled before his face shifted and his head returned to the bucket.

“Sorry, I prefer to thrust not swallow,” I shot back, the snarky response coming easily after years of growing up around Oberyn, his daughters and niece. "Although, given how often Wylla has been in here, I suspect she may be amenable," Beron grumbled something, but his words were drowned out by a retch and another bout of sickness. Even without him saying anything, I knew he did not appreciate the teasing. Nonetheless, I anticipated that once we reached Sunspear, the teasing would escalate to new heights, and Wylla did not appear to be the sort to take offence. On the contrary, she was more likely to join in the banter. While I was not implying that they should pursue a romantic relationship in Dorne, if I could encourage their pairing, I would do so as they seemed well-matched.

“W-why are y-ou he-ere?”

Beron’s staggered question brought me out of my matchmaking thoughts. “Right, just wanted to let you know we spotted Gulltown and should make harbour before nightfall. Figured the thought of dry land would make you feel better.” He nodded in what I assumed was thanks, then one shaky arm moved toward his table. Gguessing he didn’t want his book, I picked up the mug there and passed it to him.

Unlike myself and most onboard, he wasn’t taking ale or rum, instead making use of the small supply of fresh water kept on board. That along with bread and a simple stew was all he was allowed to have with Wylla being the one to take him his meals after ensuring they weren’t anything else.

Once we were in Gulltown, we’d probably head to the keep. If so, I planned to ask the Maester for something for Beron. This was hard to deal with after twelve days at sea. Another month of it as we made for Sunspear was something I’d like to avoid.

“Th-anks,” Beron mumbled after taking several small, slow gulps of water. “H-ate th-is,” he added as he passed the mug back to me.

"Aye, being confined to your cabin and sick can’t be fun," I concurred, placing the mug back on the table.

“No. Wy-lla, Ty-ene, Aly-sa-nne. Eve-ry-thi-ng wr-ong.”

“Ah.” I leaned back against the door, not wanting to step closer as the cabin stunk. I closed my eyes and listened, wanting to make sure the girls weren’t outside. There were faint sounds of them talking, but it was indistinct, meaning they were in their cabin on the other side of the corridor. Once I was sure they couldn’t hear us, I spoke. “I suspect you were looking forward to this voyage to a foreign land, without your family present. And now Alysanne is here, along with Wylla.”

“S-ays no-t sis-ter.”

“Ah, that.” I looked away, glancing out at the sea through the open window in the cabin to gather my thoughts. I’d not spoken with Beron much about this since White Harbour; mainly as he’d been sick to his stomach, and I’d been busy learning more about the ship from Captain Larazar. We’d spoken a little on the matter in White Harbour and at the time he’d been adamant Alysanne was his sister and Ned would order her back to Winterfell.

Now that we’d been at sea for almost half a moon, and with little else to do but sit here, he’d seemingly done some thinking on the matter. There still wasn’t any proof of the matter, but once in Sunspear, I doubted it would take Oberyn long to extract that from my mother.

“Is it tr-ue?”

I heaved a deep sigh and directed my attention back to him. "To be truthful, only your father can confirm whether it is true or not," I said, my tone measured. "Alysanne might believe it, but does that make a difference? If she were not your sibling but instead your cousin, like me, would that alter your relationship at all?" I wanted to provoke a response from him and gauge his stance on the matter.

“No!” He might’ve been sick, but that reply was confident. That was a relief as it meant he’d accept the truth when faced with it, though any reveal about Alysanne’s true parentage was going to be a shock to the system. Still, his firm tone was enough for now. I pushed off the wall and walked over to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Then when you next see her, tell her that. I have not spoken to her as much as I would prefer,” mainly as she spent her time around Ty who I was still a long way from forgiving. If I ever would. “But I know she is struggling with everything. Any support she could get from you would help immensely.” He nodded and I moved toward the door, pausing to look back once my hand had gripped the latch. “Also, I suggest you let Wylla know how you feel. You never know what dashing Dornishman she might meet in Sunspear that shall steal her heart.”

He growled at me but before he could try and attempt any reply, a low, pained moan slipped from his lips. I chose that moment to leave and slipped from his cabin with a smirk on my face. While he and Wylla were young, they were on the cusp of adulthood – at least how it was defined in Westeros – and would be a good match; politically and personally. If I could convince them of that, it might go some way to soothing whatever animosity had developed between me and Ned over Alysanne’s actions.

Though even if it didn’t, I was going to enjoy teasing the fuck out of them over the next few years.

… …

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… …

I walked down the deck plank of the Windchaser a few steps behind Oberyn. While I was in far better shape than Beron, or Wylla or Alysanne for that matter who’d started to get a little scatter-brained while we’d been at sea, it was nice to be back on solid ground. Now, we wouldn’t be staying in Gulltown long, perhaps a few days at most mainly to restock and resupply – and allow the Manderly trade ship to sell some of their wares – but I still had a few plans to enact.

Those were to determine, if I could, where Petyr Baelish was as I knew he wasn’t the current Master of Coin in King’s Landing, and send letters to Harrold Hardyng and Donovar Royce. On the sail from White Harbour, Oberyn had mentioned there’d be a tourney in a few moons in Storm’s End to celebrate Renly Baratheon’s seventeenth nameday. Oberyn planned to compete in it, and it also had a squire’s tourney. I didn’t know if the two Vale squires would be competing there, but this gave me a reason to initiate contact with them and let them know they could, if they so wished, respond to my letter by sending one to Sunspear.

I was eager for them to attend the tourney, as it would be interesting to see how my progress compared to theirs. But even if they didn't show up, it was of no concern to me. Harrold may not have been the heir to the Vale, but if something were to happen to Robin Arryn – and given his frailty in the canon, it was a possibility – then Harrold would take his place. Donovar, on the other hand, may have been the second son of a second son, but his family was both old and influential. The Royce’s might have knowledge of First Men runes, or at the very least, possessed bronze armour that functioned better than steel forged in a castle due to the runes inscribed upon it. As such, Donovar had the potential to be a valuable ally.

I was drawn from my thoughts as a short and slender man strode confidently onto the pier clad in garments that spoke of wealth and status. He wore a doublet of shimmering green silk, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold thread that caught the light and glimmered like sunlight on water. His breeches were of a deep, dark hue, possibly velvet or some other sumptuous fabric, and tucked into fine leather boots that gleamed as if freshly polished, two members of the city watch behind him. I recalled seeing him around Gulltown during the tourney last year, but I’d never caught his name. “Prince Oberyn,” the man began as he reached us and bowed. “I am Petyr Baelish, head of customs at Gulltown port. When I saw Martell and Manderly vessels, entering the port from the north, I felt I should handle the matter personally. It seems I was wise to do so.”

My muscles coiled like a snake preparing to strike, as soon as the man uttered his name. My hand instinctively reached for the hilt of Red Rain. I’d planned to learn where he was while here if I could, and instead, he’d walked right up to me – well my father – and introduced himself. Along with Ramsay Snow, Baelish was top of my hit list of figures to remove before Robert died. Now, there was a chance that my actions between now and 299Ac would alter events to alter when Robert dies, but the sooner Ramsay and Baelish were off the board, the better I would feel about the future Westerosi events.

“Yes, it seems it was,” Oberyn replied, A wry smile playing at the corners of his lips as he listened to the head of customs speak. But he made no move to offer the man an arm clasp, his hands remaining firmly at his sides. “However, if I recall, the man who met us when we arrived for last year’s tourney was a rather portly fellow. An Arryn if I remember correctly.”

“Your memory is impressively sharp, Prince Oberyn. That was Gilbar Arryn, until a recent tragic accident he was my assistant for customs.” Baelish's reply came out in a cloyingly sweet voice. The hint that this Gilbar had suffered an accident was interesting, making me wonder if the man had cottoned on to Baelish skimming money from the customs – which I was already certain he did – and taken out before he could report the matter to Lord Gerold Grafton. “I must apologise profusely for not meeting you personally when the Dornish contingent arrived for the tourney. The docks were extremely crowded, and I was distracted by a great many things, however, that’s no excuse for missing the arrival of a Prince of Dorne.” He lowered his head as he finished speaking, further selling the kiss-arsing he was engaged in.

“Tis no concern. With the number of lords and knights from other kingdoms, it is hardly a surprise Dorne was overlooked,” Oberyn’s reply sounded polite, but his words carried the implication Baelish had ignored him because he was Dornish. Before the little prat could counter that, Oberyn shifted his stance, one arm sliding back toward me. “May I introduce my son and squire, the winner of the squire’s tourney last year, Cregan Sand.”

Baelish's gaze pierced mine, and in that instant, I wondered if he caught a whiff of my yearning to tear out his throat. "Aye, the lad who bested young Harrold Hardyng. A costly wager that proved to be," he spoke, his lips curling into a grin that failed to reach his eyes, and as I glared back, it fell. "My apologies, Prince Oberyn, but I fail to perceive much similarity between you two."

“Cregan is my son through marriage to his mother, Lady Ashara Dayne,” Oberyn explained with a smile. I didn’t think he understood why I was glaring at the customs official, but he seemed to be enjoying it.

“Brandon Stark was my sire,” I added with an animalistic grin. Some colour faded from Baelish’s cheeks. While I’d have liked to remain semi-anonymous, on the chance I could take this prick out, he’d brought up that my name carried some history in Gulltown. Thus, I figured I’d take my enjoyment from seeing him squirm under my glare as I revealed my lineage.

“Ah, yes. I can see Your father in the face, though those eyes must surely come from your mother,” Baelish turned back to Oberyn. “I have heard tales of her beauty even here in Gulltown.”

“Yes, her beauty puts even the Queen to shame, at least in my eyes,” Oberyn replied though his gaze was on me as I burnt a hole in the back of Baelish’s skull. “I feel I may be missing something here?”

“Mister Baelish here,” I began not calling him a lord as he’d not revealed himself as one, “may hail from the Vale, but he was reared in Riverrun alongside Lady Catelyn Stark. As per a tale Lord Eddard recounted to me at Winterfell when Lady Catelyn was pledged to my father, this man," I gestured towards Baelish, "dared to challenge Brandon Stark for her hand." Oberyn's brow arched, and his gaze roved over Baelish, no doubt wondering how the slight man managed to survive facing Brandon Stark in a duel. "It was only Lady Catelyn’s begging that stayed his hand from ending this impudent fool."

“I, ugh, I remember that!” I turned as Beron walked closer, Wylla and Alysanne on either side of him. Ty was a step behind with Ymir whose tail was wagging so rapidly, I was surprised he didn’t fly away and join Rian. Beron was still pale, but the colour had started to return to his face since we’d entered the port and standing on the dock was helping more. Behind them came the four knights that travelled with us on the Windchaser, with Jory leading the way, and Captain Larazar.

“Ah yes, where are my manners,” Oberyn remarked. “This is Beron Stark, and his sister Alysanne, Wylla Manderly and my daughter, Tyene.” Baelish slid past me, though I continued to glare at the back of his head. Oberyn caught my eye, and with a gesture toward Baelish, made it clear he knew there was more going on than had been said. I nodded, letting him know I’d gotten the message and would explain further later; though the knowledge of what Baelish would do in the future wouldn’t be revealed.

“I see the sea is not to your liking Lord Beron,” Baelish said as he grasped Beron’s arm. Neither I nor Oberyn had greeted him as such, but we weren’t the children of Catelyn Stark, nee Tully. Baelish gave Wylla and Alysanne nods though his ignoring Ty ignited a spark of rage within me. Even though it wasn’t unexpected as she, like I, was a bastard, and I was angry with her for breaking my trust, I still cared for her.

Ymir's growl rumbled, perhaps sensing my rising emotions, and Baelish stepped away warily. "I do pray your hound is well-behaved," he muttered, swivelling his attention back to Oberyn.

“My son’s direwolf is anything but tamed, like every Stark, trueborn or not,” I smirked at my father’s words. I know that was meant mainly for me, but it brought a hint of a smile to Alysanne’s face as well. Though that might just have been because of the way Baelish seemed to shuffle away from Ymir.

As Baelish recovered and began talking docking fees and the like to Oberyn, Larazar stepped forward and I knelt. Ymir ran over, happily licking my face. While I laughed at his actions and enjoyed the reactions of the others, I made sure to at least partially listen to everything Baelish said or did.

While I doubted there’d be anything there that could be of use when I reviewed today with Emotionless Recall, it was still better than not doing so. I’d also have to see if there was any way I could take advantage of being here with him in Gulltown to remove him from the board before he became a major player. I doubted there was, but I’d been handed the chance to at least see.

… …

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… …

I sighed as I opened my eyes, taking in the candle that sat on the table in front of me. the candle on the table continued to burn, failing once more to offer me any insight into understanding my magic. The reason I was doing this was that Fire Magic had reached level 91 just before we’d arrived in Gulltown and level 92 since then. It’d been rising with steady speed ever since I’d taken Blood of the Dragon’s Flames, which I’d known was coming. Yet as level 100 approached, I’d begun thinking there might be a limit I was about to hit.

I’d only unlocked Fire Magic with a trait while the other elemental forms, including Earth Magic which I’d unlocked in the crypts of Winterfell but barely used since, had been unlocked after meditating in a place strong in that element. While a candle was unlikely to be enough to unlock levels beyond 100 it was all I had to work with on the Windchaser. Now it was possible that I didn’t need to do anything to unlock levels beyond 100, but with what I could do with Fire Magic being limited to animals made of fire, igniting flames along Red Rain’s blade and a thin whip that should, in theory, burn someone – though I’d yet to try it on a living target – I knew there was a lot more that I should be able to do with my magic.

Plus, after unlocking Earth Magic, there’d been a notice from the Interface that advanced elemental magic would now be available once I met the requisite levels with base elemental magics. However, it wasn’t clear what the required levels were. That had me considering taking either Wind Compatibility or Earth Compatibility once I was able to take another standard trait as both those should grant synergies with Fire Magic.

The sounds of the crew moving around, and Larazar shouting out something drifted in through the open window, pulling my mind from thoughts about magic and traits. I stood and blew out the candle, which drew Ymir’s attention, though he didn’t move from where he’d settled on my bunk. For some odd reason, he seemed to avoid Oberyn’s bunk, which meant I always had to push him off if I wanted to lay down.

I moved over to a different table and poured myself a mug of deep black ale from the Vale. Thinking on the Vale turned my thoughts to Baelish. Other than hiring two groups of thugs to kill him for ten Dragons a group, I’d not been able to move against him. Hells, I’d been reluctant to offer a further reward if the thugs brought him to Sunspear. If he captured any, which I had to consider likely as he wasn’t a simple bastard boy in the countryside like Ramsay, he’d draw that information from them via interrogation. Still, I had promised the groups a further twenty Dragons if they brought his head, and a signet ring I’d seen on his finger that bore a small bird, to the Gates of the Moon. That would confuse Baelish and misdirect his attention long enough that he’d hopefully never discover that I’d hired thugs to go after him.

Ymir lifted his head as if hearing something and I turned to him. My bond with him was now level 2 – Rian’s was the highest at level 7 – while Skinchanging was at level 82. Once it reached level 95, if the pattern held, I’d gain another bond slot with that turning into an Instinctual bond at level 100. Like with Fire Magic, I wondered if that ability would grow beyond level 100, though if it didn’t and no boost was offered as a trait, I was at a loss for how to raise it further. Or even if I wanted to.

Training and maintaining bonds with two animal companions were already time-consuming, and once I returned to Sunspear, I would have to deal with a third. On top of that, I still needed to train with Oberyn, settle my score with Daemon, and devote time to advancing my magic skills. Moreover, I had to assist my stepsisters, Alysanne, and Arianne with their magic. Plus, there was the time I’d have to spend with Beron, Wylla and others near my age in Sunspear to begin building friendships and alliances with them. Not to mention dealing with the attention of at least four women, and possibly others, like Jelissa Fowler and my aunt Allyria, as well.

All in all, I wouldn’t have the time to grow a fourth bond properly for a while, never mind discovering if more were possible.

I was drawn from those thoughts by a knock at the door. “Enter,” I called as Ymir lifted his head. As Alysanne slipped into my room, a weak smile on her face, he leapt from the bed and rushed toward her, his tail wagging behind him.

Alysanne's smile only grew wider as she knelt to greet Ymir. "Hey there," she said, extending a hand to pet him. But Ymir, ever playful, pushed past her and began licking her face with his massive tongue. "No! Bad Ymir!" Alysanne protested, trying to push him away. But with Ymir's size, she struggled to do much more than keep his head away from her face. Despite her struggles, it was clear that Alysanne was enjoying the encounter, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

“Ymir.” He turned at the sound of my firm tone. “Let her get in the room before you attack her.” His ears drooped slightly but he backed away, allowing my cousin to stand.

“Thank you.” She moved over to the table I’d returned to, Ymir at her heels, her eyes seeing the extinguished candle in the centre as she sat down. Since it was the only thing on the table bar my mug, and the sun was up, it was an odd thing to see. At least if she didn’t know I had magic and was, on my orders, meditating around a candle to see if she had any connection to fire. So far, there’d been no reaction though she had spoken of having dreams of fire shooting from a silver mouth that had me intrigued. Plus, since we’d left Gulltown, she’d spoken of feeling a heat inside whenever we finished meditating, though given the way her eyes often wandered over my frame, I did wonder if magic was the source of that heat.

As I finished my sip, I turned to face Alysanne and flashed her a charming smile. "What can I do for you, fair maiden, on this lovely day?" I asked, feeling the weight of the day lift a little as I bantered with her.

“I wanted to talk,” she replied, her cheeks reddening as they always did when I teased or complimented her. “About Tyene.” I lowered my mug to the table and stood. I took my time collecting the jug and another mug before returning to the table and pouring her drink. That gave me time to think about Ty.

Since White Harbour, I’d barely spoken a hundred words to her, though she’d tried almost daily until we’d left Gulltown to speak to me. While I still cared deeply for her and was struggling to not drag her to my bed, I wasn’t anywhere near ready to forgive her. What she’d done with Alysanne had broken my trust in her and every time I saw her, the residual anger about that bubbled away inside. Thus, I chose to avoid her as best I could.

To be clear, with time to think about what she’d done, and why, I could understand her choices. I might even, in her position, have considered doing what she’d done, though I wouldn’t have acted on it. Ty’s actions had risked causing a cold war between the North and Dorne, or me being forced to run to Essos to avoid Ned’s rage, and that of the crown as Robert would’ve instantly sided with Ned. Only, I assumed, Alysanne’s pleading with Ned and me taking the matter to Oberyn and Ser Wylis had diffused that.

Despite my attempts to maintain distance, I couldn't help but miss her presence in my life. It wasn't just the physical intimacy that I craved, but the sound of her laughter, the fleeting scent of her, and even the mere mention of her name. I found myself drawn to the cabin she shared with Alysanne and Wylla, just to catch a glimpse of her hair shining in the sun. As much as I tried to deny it, I was undeniably addicted to her, and the pain of keeping her at arm's length was starting to take its toll.

"A moon has passed since White Harbour, Cregan," Alysanne spoke, as she accepted the mug of ale that I had offered her. "And yet, you have scarcely exchanged a word with her, going out of your way to avoid her at every turn. And yet, when it comes to helping me unravel the mysteries of the flames, you spare no effort. Pray tell, why do you aid me while shunning her, when it was my misjudgement that led to the trouble?"

I took another sip from my mug, letting it slide down my throat slowly. “You have doubted what Ned has told you for years, or at least wondered why he never told you who your mother was. With the egg and everything you’ve learnt since then, that doubt grew to the point where you question if he is your father.” I smiled at her. “For what it may be worth, I am inclined to believe you, though I would still like proof that Lyanna is your mother.” She smiled back at me, seemingly glad to hear that I supported her belief now when I’d acted sceptical ever since White Harbour. Of course, I knew it was true, but until my mother, grandmother, Ned, or Howland Reed spilt the beans, she wouldn’t. The Three-Eyed-Raven might know the truth as well, but he wasn’t a viable way to reveal things; not while I trusted him less than I did Catelyn Stark.

I’d wondered why Ned hadn’t come to White Harbour to confront Alysanne, or at least confirm the truth to her. Yet with some time to think on it, I could see why he hadn’t. Doing so would’ve caused a major problem for everyone. Still, I was struggling to figure out why he’d allowed her to come to Sunspear. Ned had to know my mother was there, and there was a high chance she’d tell Alysanne the truth. So why would he allow her to travel to a land that was, at best, ambivalent to Northern interests, and risk losing her and breaking a promise he likely made to his sister?

I blinked to clear that line of thought from dominating my mind again. Now wasn’t the time to ponder it, nor hope for an answer that hadn’t come even after a moon of trying to find one.

“What Ty did was different. She betrayed my trust, Alysanne. She betrayed her father and her family as well. She placed me in a position where if I did not take everything to Oberyn and Ser Wylis I may have been branded a kidnapper. At best, if I was not killed outright in White Harbour, I could have been exiled from Westeros. Ty had to know that could happen, yet she still chose to help you. Meaning she either did not care about the implications and broke my trust, or failed to think them through and honestly, I fail to know which option is worse.” Alysanne leaned forward, her mouth opening to counter, but I raised a hand to stop her. “Now, I understand why she felt she had to help you. With what you know about me, and what you suspected about your heritage, I can see her reasoning. And I will not deny that, even after this, I still care for her deeply. She was the first woman in my bed and I the first in hers," I said chuckling as Alysanne’s cheeks reddened at that, which wasn’t entirely true as while I was the first man she’d fucked, I knew she and Arianne had experimented together for several years. Which, when Ty had told me, had filled my dreams with some rather colourful imagery. “I want her back; I shall not deny that. But how can I do that if I do not trust her? If there is a risk that, sometime in the future, she decides to do something as reckless as what she did again?”

I leaned back, my piece said, and waited to see how Alysanne would reply. During our almost daily meetings to try and unlock her magic, Ty had often been just on the edge of our conversation. However, this was the first time Alysanne had brought Ty up directly. I knew Ty would hear what I’d said, which is why I’d been as honest as I had, but I was curious to hear Alysanne’s response.

"I understand, I truly do. And I take responsibility for the chaos that I have wrought," Alysanne began, her mug pushed aside as she leaned forward. "But Cregan, you must understand that Tyene is suffering because of my mistake. She weeps every night, and whenever she sees you turn away from her, it seems like a part of her dies." Alysanne's eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, a clear indication that she was hurting because of Tyene's pain. "Yes, we should have come to you, to Prince Oberyn, to my bro... my cousins in Winterfell. But if you must place blame, place it upon me and not upon her. She was only trying to assist me." Alysanne's hands glided across the table, finding their way to rest upon mine. "Please, for my sake, could you try to speak to her?" she implored, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks.

I groaned and looked up at the ceiling. How was it fair that Alysanne could pull off the hurt puppy-dog eyes so fucking well a moon shy of her thirteenth nameday?

“Fine,” I said slowly as my eyes returned to my cousin. I had to push down an urge to comfort her as it was clear she was hurting because her friend and I were. “I can try and talk with her, but I am not making any promises.”

“I know,” Alysanne said as a weak smile came to her face. I stood, feeling the urge to hug and comfort her. “I know,” she repeated as she slid into my arms. “Thank you,” she added as she looked up at me. before I realised it, her lips had brushed against my cheek, catching the corner of my mouth. “Eep.” The faint sound slipped from her lips as I blinked. As I released the hug and she stumbled back, confusion mixing with her darkening cheeks, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

I couldn't help but smile as I watched her flounder, her words failing to materialize. It was clear that the kiss was meant as a gesture of gratitude, yet it seemed as though she felt she had done something wrong. "Th-thank you," she squeaked out before stumbling backwards, her hand groping for the door.

Ymir followed her, though she made no move to pet him, and slipped from my cabin without opening the door fully; her eyes never meeting mine. As Ymir turned back from the closed door and whined, I barked out a laugh. “Hey, stop blaming me, she never asked if you wanted to go,” Ymir whined again and looked back at the door, which only made me laugh again, which grew stronger as he slumped down at the door.

Given his size, it was easy to forget he was only a few moons old and had the maturity of a child. Still, I did hope he kept this behaviour even when fully grown. The idea of a direwolf the size, or more, of a horse whining pathetically when ignored, was something I just had to see.

Still, I knew that was unlikely to happen, as it was that Alysanne would keep that youthful innocence she had. There was nothing in that kiss, just a simple thanks. The fact she’d caught the corner of my mouth didn’t change that, but Alysanne was too young to realise that; at least for now.

However, the fact she already could make me shift my position, granted one I was already unhappy with, with a few words and a sad face was concerning. Not because I felt caring about my family was a bad thing, but because of how Arianne and Nymeria would teach her to use that ability.

Which when used along with watching her grow into a young lady, and trained in how to use her wiles by my stepsisters, Arianne, and others, was downright terrifying.

… …

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… …

“You wished to speak to us, Captain?”

Larazar looked up from the small table he was standing at behind the wheel as I followed Oberyn onto the quarterdeck. The wheel was being manned by Garreo; like Larazar, a man of Myrish birth who’d moved to Sunspear over a decade ago.

Garreo was the most experienced member of our crew, regaling us with outlandish tales from his life before the Windchaser. Yet, like all the crew, he was more than happy to impart his knowledge of the vessel to me. I once asked him why he was so at ease with the prospect of being commanded by a man nearly two decades his junior. His response was simple yet profound: Unlike other nobles that he had sailed for, I showed a genuine interest in understanding how the vessel worked and was willing to put in the hard labour to do so.

Hearing Garreo's words, and the agreement of many other crew members was a great relief. I had feared that once I formally assumed command of the Windchaser, the crew would simply follow Larazar to whatever command Doran had in store for him. However, with a few years still left until I expected to take full command, at least twelve of our standard crew of twenty had committed to staying on board under my leadership.

“Yes, I did,” Larazar replied as he turned to face us. He then turned back to the table and as we approached I saw it was a reasonably detailed map of the Broken Arm of Dorne and the Stepstones. I say reasonably as the rough locations of various ports in the Stepstones were marked but there was no indication of who ruled there.

The reason for that was that the Stepstones were a mecca for pirates. From there they could terrorise the Narrow and Summer Seas with ease. Everywhere from Pentos to Volantis on Essos and from Starfall to Dragonstone in Westeros was within reach of the Stepstones. While there had been moves over the centuries by various powers on both sides of the Narrow Sea to pacify them, it always resulted in others supporting the pirates or risk having trade controlled by potentially hostile parties. Thus, even though a small fleet of four ships bearing the colours of House Martell and Manderly should be safe from all but the most powerful pirate lords, which was why we’d sailed close to the Arm.

“We are, perhaps, three days sail from Sunspear and only have Dustspear left to pass,” Larazar said, pointing at the southernmost island of the Stepstones that pointed at Sunspear like a dagger aimed at a heart.

As I examined the map, Oberyn offered his input. "We seem to be making good time," he remarked. There were several small islands scattered between Dustspear and Dorne, but none were large enough to sustain a population of more than a hundred men. Moreover, they would need to rely heavily on supplies from other regions. Dustspear, on the other hand, was a real threat, especially with its current pirate lord, the Grim Walker. Rumoured to be as tall as a tree with a bow capable of shooting ships from over a mile away, some of the tales about him were undoubtedly exaggerated. Nevertheless, as a pirate lord with five years of experience under his belt, he was to be both feared and respected.

“Aye, we are. However, the issue lies in what is on our path.” At that, he handed Oberyn a Myrish eye and pointed south. “Storms are common in the Summer Sea this time of the year, but from what the lookout’s saying, this one is going to be a bad one.” Even without the telescope, I could see a darkening on the horizon. Once we were finished speaking, I planned to slip into Rian and see just how large this storm front was.

From my classes with the Maesters in Sunspear and the Water Gardens, I knew that between the eleventh and second moons of a year – we were about three-quarters through the first moon of 296AC – storms in the Summer Sea generally veered toward Dorne. Most petered out or turned away before making landfall, but I remembered a large one striking Sunspear a few years ago.

We’d spent three days inside the palace with the windows barred shut. Rian had hated it the most, but the storm had passed with only minimal damage and loss of life in the Shadow City. Still, it’d taken a week to fully clear the damage caused and move on.

Between the fourth and seventh moons, the storms veered toward Essos with Lys often at risk of storms, though their location at the northern tip of the island the city was on helped protect them from the worst. For the other months, the storms stayed in the south never doing anything more than threatening southern Westeros and Essos.

“Can we outrun it?” I asked as Oberyn lowered the Myrish eye and handed it back to Larazar. “Or at least find a safe harbour in the Arm?” The Windchaser was fast, even when tacking into the wind as we’d soon be doing, so it should be doable for us. The issue was the other ships with us.

“From the way it seems to be moving, I doubt we can skirt its edge without being driven onto the Arm,” Larazar replied as he turned back to the map, placing the Myrish eye in a container at his waist. He then pointed at a point on the map about a quarter of the way to Sunspear from our rough position. “We might be able to reach this cove here. It is large enough to protect maybe a dozen ships. The problem is that while we should make it, the other vessels cannot keep pace. Not unless they drop all their cargo, and the Gods grant them aid.”

“I take it turning around and trying to sail back is out of the question?” Oberyn said, a frown coming to his face.

“We could try, but any of the fingers of the Arm are often crawling with pirates. The moment the storm is over, I would wager good coin that they will sail out pretending to help only to attempt to seize our vessels.” Oberyn’s expression darkened. “I know Dornish parties regularly clear those coves, my prince, however, the pirates and smugglers always return.”

“So, we are damned no matter what we do,” I muttered as I looked over the map again, trying to find a way out of this. If this was Earth, we’d be able to power through the edge of the storm, riding out the waves with relative ease. However, we lacked the engine and metal hull to even consider that.

“Better to face a challenge head-on.” I looked at Oberyn, his lips turning up on his face as he stared at the storm as if daring it to do its worst. He then turned to Larazar. “What do you need us to do?”

A faint smile came to Larazar’s face, and he gave my father a nod. “For now, I shall need every able body, even the girls, to help. We need to clear everything not nailed down from the top deck into the hold. They shall then need to be secured, as will almost everything else while the hull and bilge will have to be inspected. Even the smallest damage may condemn us all to a watery grave. After that, I will stay topside with a portion of the crew. We will be tied down and, if allowed, rotate with others. Beyond all that, our fates are in the hands of the Gods.”

Oberyn turned and left the quarterdeck, with me a step behind. The storm still looked distant, barely a dark line on the horizon, but there was an ominous threat in the air now. Before we started clearing the deck, I’d let Oberyn know and slip into Rian. Perhaps from the clouds above, I could see a way through this that we were missing as we sailed toward the raging storm.

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“Gods,” I muttered as I followed Oberyn onto the deck. Even if sleep – a proper sleep not one interrupted by the Windchaser being treated as a ragdoll by a storm – called to me, I knew it had to wait. My ship was damaged and seeing how bad it was, I knew sleep would be hours away still.

“Aye. We were lucky we saw the storm coming and could secure the ship,” Oberyn agreed as we looked around the deck.

The whole thing was soaked with water pooling in a few places where it hadn’t been swept back into the sea during the previous two days; though that was just an estimate as it was impossible to tell how much time had passed officially. The main and mizenmasts were still standing though the foremast was ruined. It looked like it’d snapped about halfway up, taking the sails attached with it into the sea. Sounds from above drew my attention upward. There, the crew unfurled the mainsail and I groaned again at seeing two large rips through it. Those would render it all but useless and had probably come when the foremast broke. The topsail then unfurled, and I was relieved to see it was relatively undamaged, with just a small rip on one edge.

We’d have to patch the mainsail, but it should be enough to carry us to Sunspear when combined with the mizenmast. That seemed to have come through the storm relatively unscathed, though the sails on it hadn’t yet been unfurled.

Any crew that wasn’t working to access and clean the damage of the masts were working to clear the deck of loose pieces of damage. Clearing the water wasn’t going to be an issue as the storm clouds had broken and the sun was beating down on us. Judging from its height, I suspected it was a few hours until midday on whichever day this was.

Still, all things considered, the Windchaser had come through the storm relatively intact. Something I couldn’t confirm from the other ships in our small fleet as I failed to spot any of them as I looked northward, toward the storm racing away for the north tip of the Broken Arm.

“Prince Oberyn, good to see you and young Master Cregan in one piece.” We turned at the voice to see Larazar approach. His right arm was tied tightly against his chest with what remained of his shirt soaked with blood. The arm had to be broken, but he wasn’t stopping that from him commanding the clean-up. “We’ve been battered and bruised,” at that, he indicated his arm, “but all in all, the ship and crew are in decent shape.”

“Are you well?” I asked, earning a small smile from the captain.

“I shall live,” he replied with a broad grin. “I was thrown against the wheel during the storm and my arm caught in the spokes. Broken somewhere below the elbow but the dislocation helps numb the pain.” He looked past us, toward the passage that led to the cabins. “How are the others?”

“Young Beron still looks more Manderly than Stark,” Oberyn began, drawing a chuckle from Larazar, “Ser Jory banged his head badly enough he had to be tied down to a bed and Ser Karsan had his leg shatter when a chest came loose. Tyene is tending to them as best she can with the other girls. Other than that, everyone is fine.” A screech from above drew my gaze for a moment and I saw Rian circling the ship, overjoyed to finally be back in the air. Neither he nor Ymir had enjoyed being trapped in my cabin during the storm, and the moment the sun had poked through what remained of my cabin’s windows and I confirmed the skies weren’t clear on all sides – meaning we’d entered the eye of the storm – I’d let him out. Ymir was with the girls, enjoying seeing them for the first time in days. He’d probably go onto the deck soon, but for now, it was better if he stayed out of the way.

“Seems you fared better than the crew. We have three missing, likely swept overboard, and four more down with injuries.” Larazar’s comment concerned me. We were already running light on crew due to the extra passengers, but now we only had eight including him left.

“How can we help?” I offered, earning smiles from both men.

“Good lad.” Larazar clapped me on my shoulder with his good hand. “I need you to take the wheel. Garreo is in the hold with a broken leg while Jasim is one of those who went overboard.”

I nodded and moved to the quarterdeck. Garreo and Jasim were the two helmsmen of the Windchaser which meant I’d have to fill the role until we reached Sunspear. Reaching the wheel, I saw it was secured to a railing in front of it, one that overlooked the passage to the cabins. Behind and to starboard I could see land and the storm as it headed into the Stepstones and Arm to die. However, even with the small boost to my sight from my bond with Rian, I failed to spot any of the other vessels.

“Cregan,” I looked up from untying the first rope holding the wheel in place to see Oberyn stepping onto the quarterdeck. “Larazar has said the crow’s nest has gone and his Myrish eye is broken.” I winced at that as a good telescope could cost a few Dragons. “Perhaps you could help scout our surroundings?” He glanced upward, to where Rian was still circling the ship.

I felt a grin spread as I nodded. It was nice not having to hide this from him anymore, and as he moved to untie the other ropes, I closed my eyes. A moment later, I felt my view change to one far above the concerns of a group of humans on a ship after a storm. The wind raced over my feathers, surging faster from the trailing winds of the storm.

To be back among the clouds, free of the confines of the ship was amazing. While I hated the turning of the winds, and the driving rain it brought, I’d have preferred to weather it out in a crook instead of being trapped in that floating tree on the water below. The water around that was waking, the vicious winds having broken and beneath the waves, I saw movement; meals just waiting for me to swoop down and claim. While the food given to me by my dirt-walker was edible, I missed the feel of the hunt. The rush of blood as I dove, the anticipation as my talons extended and the surge of delight as I rose again, prey squirming helplessly in my grasp.

I shook my head, clearing Rian’s desires from my head. He could hunt happily after we’d seen what I needed.

To the north, I could see that bearing down on the sections of the Broken Arm that jutted toward the Steps, and there, at the very edge of the storm’s rage, I saw two ships. While it was hard to be sure if those were from our fleet as their sails were tied up, from what I could see – which was far more than even a man with Myrish eyes could – was that one ship had sails of green while the other had orange. That meant they were likely ours, however, the second Manderly ship was nowhere to be seen. It could be further into the storm as the waves behind those two ships were raging and merging with the dangerously dark cloud, but if they’d been pushed away from the others, I worried they’d been lost to the storm.

The two remaining ships were miles away, still to fully emerge from the storm. If we stayed still, letting the currents carry us or dropped anchor, the pair should reach us before nightfall. However, that would depend on their condition.

I turned back, planning to slip from Rian’s mind only to pause as movement near the coast drew my attention. A ship was emerging into the sea. I angled my wings, gliding through the air toward it and where it’d come from. While the coast here was under Dornish control, Larazar had mentioned pirates inhabited many of the coves. The ship might be coming to offer aid, but it could just as well be moving to attack while we were recovering from the storm’s fury.

The ship was smaller than the Windchaser, and on her deck, eight men were visible. In the crow’s nest, one was looking intently toward my vessel. A glint of light let me know he held a Myrish eye. The sails were unfurled while a dozen oars extended from her hull. There were more crew below deck, and for all the world she looked like a traded ship coming to offer help.

Yet something felt off.

I pushed on, wanting to see where they’d come from. The sea slipped by as I passed over the cragged rock that protected a cove. Another boat was harboured in the cove, a longboat from the look of it. A dozen buildings stood on the shore, some in better condition than others. People moved around below, each carrying a sword on their hip.

That put me on edge, and any doubt about who they were was removed a second later. The door to one building burst open and a girl rushed out. Her face was dirty and her hair chaotic. The rags she had on were torn open, though she tried to hold them closed with one hand. She’d barely gotten a half-dozen steps before one of the men outside grabbed her hair, pulled her back and tossed her against the wall. As her screams reached my ears, the man, a wide smile on his face, yanked down his trousers.

I banked away, not wanting to watch her fate. This was a pirate cove, meaning the ship bearing down on the Windchaser wasn’t there to help. As I angled toward the ship, wanting a closer look at it, I saw a man on the cragged rock that protected the cove. He was lying down, facing the sea. I angled around him, the glint of light confirming he had a Myrish eye as well and was acting as a lookout/monitor for the ship at sea.

That would alter slightly any plan for dealing with the inbound pirates, I suspected.

I raced back toward the Windchaser, and as I neared the pirate vessel, I pulled my wings in and swooped down. I wasn’t going to go low enough to let them snipe Rian with a bow, but I wanted a closer look. The men on deck appeared to be dressed as simply sailors, yet as one turned I saw something under his clothing. It was hard to make out what it was, but at a guess, it was armour of some form; likely nothing more than hardened leather or gambeson as even chainmail might be seen from a lookout on the Windchaser. While the group on deck were lightly armoured, there was a chance the ones below weren’t.

Thankfully, the ship didn’t appear to have any defences, though neither did the Windchaser as the small ballista Oberyn had insisted on mounting on the forecastle had been washed away in the storm. Still, they had us outnumbered for certain, though I doubted they had any knights onboard, nor any who might have full armour. Even with Ser Karsan down, that left us four knights and me – had armour after all – along with the crew against however many were onboard the pirate vessel.

I raced forward, needing to return to the Windchaser but wanting Rian clear of those people before I slipped from his mind. Once I was, after leaving him with an impression to avoid the other vessel, I slid from his mind.

I staggered slightly, the motion of the ship catching me off-guard as my thoughts returned to my body. A hand gripped my arm and I looked to see Oberyn watching me carefully.

“It will take some time to grow used to that,” Oberyn commented as he released his grip on me, returning it to the wheel which was now unsecured from the railing. “How are we?”

“Two of our escorts are emerging from the storm, though I was not able to tell how damaged they are, they might be able to reach us by nightfall. The third, however, I could not see.”

“Concerning but to lose just one ship to a storm such as that is good.” That was a touch cold, but he wasn’t wrong. All it would’ve taken was a few more unexpected gusts of wind and all the ships could’ve been driven onto the rocks of the Broken Arm.

“Aye, but there is another issue. A ship’s inbound from the coast. It looks like a smaller trading vessel, but the crew above deck are wearing some armour under their clothes and the cove they sailed from has pirates within.” Oberyn frowned even as I continued. “There is a lookout on the ship and near the cove as well.”

“Hmm. First, we must determine how we explain this to Captain Larazar. After that, well it would be rude of us not to prepare a welcome for our guests.” The smile Oberyn had left little doubt he already had several ideas that the pirates would undoubtedly hate, and I could feel my blood beginning to boil with a fierce and bloody hunger for battle as a smile split my face.

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