Northern Return
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(Circa 295AC)
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I leaned back in the chair, and carefully turned the page of my book. Fire and Blood by Archmaester Gyldayn had been a nameday gift from my mother and stepfather. It had been near a moon's turn since then and I had read the book from cover to cover nearly a dozen times but still found the tome a fascinating read.
It was a subject that I knew nothing about before being reborn in Starfall and hearing how Daemon Targaryen had conquered the Stepstones with Caraxes. The idea of taking the Stepstones, or at least part of them, to earn more fame for myself had some appeal, but it’d taken Daemon years to do so with the support of House Velaryon – at the time, possibly the most powerful house in Westeros – and Caraxes. Since I had neither of those nor the extra time to take the Stepstones with the threat of the Others, it was nothing but a pipedream.
Fire and Blood was a book that had been mentioned in various other texts, and I’d wanted to read it almost as soon as I learnt about it. I’d done so once before my nameday by reading the copy in the Martell’s library, but I’d not been allowed to take it. This copy was mine to read and enjoy to my heart’s content. Which was what I was doing as I lazed away on the quarterdeck of the Windchaser.
That was the name I’d finally decided upon for my ship, the suggestion coming from Asha Greyjoy of all people after she and others had taken a short voyage on it. While Arianne and Tyene had suggested more fanciful names – Wolfsblood and Cregan’s Crest respectfully – Asha’s felt more suitable. Plus, it’d earned me some brownie points with the Ironborn girl. While she wasn’t entirely comfortable in Sunspear as she understood she was a hostage and could well be forced into a marriage by Doran, she’d become part of Nymeria’s circle of friends and, unless I was well off base, had joined my stepsister in bed at least once.
“Are you reading that again?”
I lifted my head from the book, and a page talking about how Daemon had gathered a band of sworn swords in support of his brother Viserys before the great council that would name him King, to see Tyene walking up the short flight of stairs to the quarterdeck. We’d passed Dragonstone a few days ago – and that was a place I’d love to explore to see if there were any hidden or forgotten Targaryen treasures there, and not just because I’d taken the Blood of the Dragon’s Flames special perk and held out a small flicker of hope that I’d one day have a dragon of my own – so she wasn’t wearing the thinner clothing of Dorne. Still, the way the wool blanket hung from her shoulders naturally drew my eyes to her chest. The faint smile that came to her lips as she saw that, made it clear that’d been her intention.
“Yes, it’s a fascinating read,” I replied once my eyes returned to hers. Then sighed dramatically as she walked closer even as her eyes scanned me. Since I wasn’t as concerned by the cold as her, I was wearing a loose crimson silk vest open down to my chest. While I still had a good few years of growing to go, I’d already passed my stepsisters and Arianne with ease. Official measurements weren’t done in Westeros, but I already stood as tall and broad as many men. Something that was first brought up openly by my aunt Allyria who’d come to Dorne along with my cousin Edric Dayne about a year and a half ago to serve as one of Arianne’s handmaidens.
While I’d quickly bonded with Edric, Allyria had been very standoffish. According to Ty and Arianne, that was because my aunt was distracted by my looks. However, knowing that only made things more awkward between us as Allyria looked so much like a younger version of my mother that she’d started joining some of my more intense dreams –though thankfully she’d replaced my mother – over the last year.
“Why aren’t you preparing? We are but a few days away.” Tyene’s question changed the topic as she sat at the table opposite me.
I rolled my eyes even as I slowly, regretfully, closed my book. Tyene had been uncomfortable about this ever since we’d passed Storm’s End – not that we stopped there – and had daily bugged me about getting further prepared.
Currently, along with Oberyn onboard the Windchaser and five escort ships carrying other Dornish nobles, we were sailing to Gulltown. The Lord was holding a tourney to celebrate the close dates of his marriage and his son’s eighteenth nameday. Oberyn had decided to enter, and as his squire, I was required to come with and ensure his armour was ready. And my own as, once we’d left and I’d discovered it in my quarters, Oberyn had explained that there should be a squire’s tourney of some form in Gulltown. That explained the cold look my mother had given him as we left, and the concerned one she’d sent me, as she likely wasn’t happy about me taking part, even if it was normal for squires to do so while accompanying their knight. What it didn’t do though was explain why Tyene had decided to join us. Something she was remarkably coy about answering the several times I’d brought it up.
“The armour’s as clean as it's going to get while we’re at sea,” I replied to Tyene even as she poured herself a mug of wine, pausing only to give me a look. “As for why I’m not practising, our father lets me have the mornings free to do as I wish. Today that was reading this book one more time.”
After lunch, I always lightly sparred with Oberyn and in the evening checked and cleaned our equipment. While I enjoyed reading Fire and Blood, it wasn’t the only thing for me to do on the Windchaser. Most mornings, when Tyene normally lounged in her quarters, I helped around the ship. Most of that involved following the captain, a man named Larazar, around. Larazar had been born in Myr but had settled in Sunspear and married the daughter of a local merchant some time ago. Since then, he'd slowly worked his way into Doran’s favour which was why he’d earned the trust to captain my ship until I was old enough to do so for myself. While I knew bits and pieces about sailing and had read up on the topic from a few books in Sunspear, an experienced fountain of knowledge like Larazar was a godsend.
“So you prefer the company of a book, or sweaty sailors, to your goodsister?” I blinked at her question as she took a sip of her wine, trying to hide the growth of her smile with the cup. I knew she didn’t have anyone but me and Oberyn to speak to on the trip, but I was still in the dark about why she was here.
“Captain Larazar is helping me learn about my ship, and as for the book,” I placed a hand on the front cover, enjoying the feel of the title under my fingers. “A mind is like a sword, though it needs books not a whetstone to stay sharp.” That was the fourth time I’d used that rough line in this world – I still chuckled at the irony that the first was to Tyrion Lannister – and it never failed to ring true.
Tyene rolled her eyes as she lowered her mug. “Well, at least now I know where Sarella got that from.” I laughed at that as Sarella had been the second to hear it from me, with Oberyn being the third. It didn’t surprise me in the least that my clever stepsister would use that. Though having her join in the flirting of her older sisters and cousin had. Not that I entirely minded. Sarella was a year older than me, but her intelligence was something I found enjoyable to be around, to say nothing of her rapidly maturing body. “Still, I hope you’re not planning on copying Daemon Targaryen.”
I laughed loudly and shook my head. “No, my darling sister, I don’t plan for that. Not least as I don’t have a dragon as ferocious as the Blood Wyrm at my side. While I won’t deny that pacifying those islands would bring traders peace, I don’t see myself attempting such an undertaking.” Even with the ripples that my existence had caused, I doubted I’d have the spare decade to pull off something that audacious. Hells, the Others invasion might, Gods help me, come sooner because of me. And that was a thought that often plagued my dreams.
Tyene took another sip from her mug and then gave a small nod. “Good. I’d hate for you to die on some nameless rock to some nobody.” She put the mug down and leaned forward, her cloak slipping to expose more of her chest. While she wasn’t as well endowed, and likely never would be, as Nymeria or Arianne, she’d still developed a very tempting pair. She licked the edge of her lips. “It would be such a waste.”
I felt an eyebrow rise. “Oh? And why, if I might ask, would my darling sister feel me dying there be such a waste?” I smirked as I finished, enjoying the sudden shift in the tone of our conversation. It’d taken me a few years to get comfortable with the flirting that came from Arianne, Nymeria and Tyene – mainly as I’d had to overcome my Earth-based mentality on the matter – but once I had, I’d found myself enjoying it. Not because I expected anything to happen – though if it did, I wasn’t going to complain as they were all fucking gorgeous – but because it’d be helpful for the future. I wasn’t sure if or when I’d marry as there were more important things to deal with, but I’d worship the Seven openly before I’d go through life celibate.
Tyene held my gaze as she slowly, tantalisingly, dragged her tongue over her lips. “Beyond the obvious?” She waved a hand in my general direction. To most, it might not mean anything, or just that she was concerned for my well-being. But with Rian choosing that moment to land on the railing near us, a fish in his beak, and the specific way she moved her hand, it was obvious she was referring to my magic. And hers as well.
Not long after taking Blood of the Dragon’s Flames, and then enduring constant nannying from my mother, sisters, and cousin when I’d awoken a few days later, I’d spoken with Arianne. After she’d gotten over the fact my eyes were now a vibrant purple – the special trait having seemingly removed the faint wisps of grey I’d once had and left me with eyes that reminded my mother of Prince Rhaegar – we’d increased the training with my stepsisters to awaken their magic.
It had taken some work, but the girls had awakened their magic. Tyene and Sarella had shown an ability to control water, with Tyene quickly reaching the same point as me with Water Magic. Nymeria had struggled with using water magic, which had me thinking she might have more of an inclination for fire magic given her mother was from the Old Blood of Volantis; people that traced their roots directly back to the Valyrian Freehold. So far, she hadn’t managed to do anything with it, but she’d been trying even when I’d left Sunspear. She’d also enjoyed teasing me and the others that if she could use fire, then she’d be closer to me than them.
“Yes, besides all this.” My reply was accompanied by a knowing smirk. Again, to outsiders, it’d just look like we were flirting again. Which I was, but I was also enjoying holding it over Tyene that it was because of me she, her sisters and her cousin realised they could wield magic. That said, if Tyene was hinting at something more, then I wasn’t going to complain.
She leaned back, her blanket sliding further down to expose the dress she was wearing. Said dress was only loosely tied, exposing the skin to a point just below her breasts. She smirked, making it clear that while she was a beauty, she was also a daughter of the Red Viper. That look and the cold venomous look in their eyes when angered were the most explicit hints that all the Sand Snakes were daughters of Oberyn Martell. Hells, even Elia and Obella used it, but since both were under ten it didn’t affect me. “Mayhaps I’ll show you if you do well in the tourney.”
I leaned forward, any thought of returning to my book lost. I brought a hand to my chin and scratched it idlily even as my eyes enjoyed the sight in front of me. “I have a sudden urge to practice with my sword.”
She laughed softly as I stood, her eyes travelling down my frame. I slid Fire and Blood under my arm and started to walk away only to stop when she placed a hand on the arm supporting the book. I looked at her and her eyes went from the book to me. I placed the book down near her, trusting her to return it to my quarters later. As I moved away, her hand brushed lightly over my exposed forearm, sending a pleasant shiver up my arm.
I had no idea what the reward would be, but I now had a strong desire to not just do well but win the whole damn thing.
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I bit back a hiss of pain as the Septa helped the healer lift my armour from my chest. At the end of the melee, once it’d come down to the final two, I’d found myself up against Harrold Hardyng; though I only realised that after the fight was over and I was on my way to the healer’s tent. The boy was a year older than me, very skilled and unlike me at that point, still had his shield. Mine had been smashed to pieces early on in the melee. Once the fighting had begun, a desire to prove myself against the biggest in the melee had sparked. That wasn’t how Wolfsblood usually worked, so I suspected it was caused by Blood of the Dragon’s Flames. Or the two perks mixing oddly. Anyway, I’d bested that squire – a boy who was half a head taller and about the same wider than I was – but lost my shield in the process. I’d found another in the muck during the melee, but by the time I’d faced off with Hardyng, I’d lost that as well.
As the faceoff against Hardyng had begun, even from the beginning of the match, the fact he had his shield and was nearly as skilled as me meant I’d been struggling to land a clean strike. Even with me having him outclassed physically and likely in skill – a benefit of having taken Boosted Martial Learning as my standard trait – the sudden duel had begun to drag on with neither of us having a clear advantage. With a growing fire burning in my veins as the battle continued, I knew I couldn’t permit myself to lose and during one flurry where I’d driven him back with sheer strength and speed, I’d seen an opening.
Shifting to my side to dodge a blow that may well have dented my helm, I unleashed a quick flurry of blows to push him back, his shield moved to meet them every time though and his sword flickered out like a striking hawk.
As I deflected his blade away from me I purposely left an opening to my side and went in for a wrath strike, as his blade struck my armour, I felt a burst of pain but ignored it and brought my sword down like a falling star to crash against his helm.
Stumbling back disoriented, Hardyng left himself completely open as I locked one leg behind his leg and threw him to the ground before my blade swung around to rest at his throat. Shaking his head ruefully he raised his hand in surrender and dropped his blade.
The muted silence that followed was short-lived as the crowd roared with approval as I raised my sword with a roar. As I turned to walk away I stumbled a bit as the searing pain in my side grew worse but Oberyn was already there to catch me and lead me to the healer's tent while congratulating me and explaining who Hardyng was.
As the Maester probed at my cut with his fingers I flinched. A glance down showed the wound was swelling. “The cut doesn’t appear too deep. Though the bone may have been cracked.” As I was forced to undergo his examination, I grunted when his fingers lightly touched the swollen flesh before his palms came to rest around the cut. “Take a deep breath.” I did as he asked. It sent a minor stab of pain through my side. “Bruised certainly, cracked probably but not broken. Good.” He turned and looked over at Oberyn who’d been by my side. “Your squire…”
“My son.” Oberyn’s words were calm, yet the cold edge still served to unnerve the paling maester.
The old man coughed and sputtered. “V-very well, your son. He’ll be fine with time, Prince Oberyn. Just make sure he doesn’t do too much work for a moon’s turn or so,” as the Maester spoke, the Septa moved over to a table and picked up an oily glass jar. “He’ll need to apply a balm to the wound after each meal for ten days, then every morning and night for the rest of the moon. After that, if there is still swelling speak with another Maester, though I doubt that will be needed.”
A hiss escaped my lips as the Septa applied the contents from the jar to my wound. It smelt barely better than an outhouse and was cold as fuck.
“Hmm, then it appears I’ll need a new squire for the tourney and to clean my armour.” I turned my head to glare at Oberyn, but the Septa stopped me by gripping my arm. “Still, I hope this will teach you Cregan that while trapping an opponent’s weapon against your armour is a sound strategy, even with blunted weapons it carries some risk.”
“Next time I’ll ask my opponent to fight fair and drop his shield,” I shot back, which drew a chuckle from my stepfather as no one with even half a brain would do that. If anyone ever did that, then they were fucking fools who deserved to die and save the world from the pain of dealing with them.
Before I could ask the Maester if the wound would scar – purely for personal reasons – I sensed heat sources approaching the tent. Ever since my bonds with Kaa and Rian had reached level 5, I’d started gaining very weak feedback abilities linked to them. An innate ability to sense heat around me – though it only had a short range and mainly worked for sensing people – and cleaner, sharper vision. I wasn’t sure how many levels a skinchanging bond could go to – Kaa was at level 6 and had been for over half a year – I didn’t know how much stronger these feedback abilities would get. And while I was happy with Blood of the Dragon’s Flames as my special perk, I did wonder how strong these new abilities would’ve been if I’d taken Bestial Bonds.
The Maester turned as the flap of the tent was pulled back, and I felt my brow rise as a boy walked in. He wasn’t wounded, at least not visibly, and while his sandy blonde hair and deep blue eyes would draw a lot of attention, what caught mine was the herald on his surcoat. Unless there were two boys that height for the same house, this was Harrold Hardyng, the squire I’d beaten in the melee, and the one who’d given me this wound. Even if it was unintentional.
“Ah,” the boy stopped just after he entered as he saw me with my chest exposed and the Septa applying whatever foul paste it was to my wound. His eyes shifted from me to Oberyn, and he bowed deeply. “Prince Oberyn, I wish to inquire on how your squire is doing. It wasn’t my intent to injure him, and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t badly hurt from my blow.”
“How very noble of you, young… Hardyng, was it not?” I couldn’t see Oberyn’s face, but I knew he’d waved off the comment and was now smiling.
“Harrold Hardyng, Prince Oberyn.” Harrold lowered his head once more though didn’t bow fully this time. “It’s an honour to meet one of such renown as yourself.” Oberyn chuckled and I could almost see the gears in his head turning even as he would be dismissing the compliment with a wave of his hand.
“Yes, I’m sure my name is known throughout the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. Though not all would be as impressed by it.” I sensed a shift behind me. “Still, you are here to talk to my squire and son and not impress me with flowery words.”
“By marriage, not blood,” I explained quickly, taking away some of my stepfather’s fun. Though I’d be surprised if Harrold wasn’t aware of my parentage already. “My mother, Lady Ashara Dayne married the prince here several years after my birth.” My thoughts turned for a moment to my mother. Oberyn had received a raven from her when we’d arrived in Gulltown and we’d discovered that, all things being equal, I had another sibling on the way. It was odd that my mother had only had Aliandra in her time married to Oberyn, as Elliara had birthed three girls in that time, but that was neither here nor there.
“Ah, yes.” I could see Harrold connecting the dots in his mind as the second person I’d sensed entered the tent. This man was likely the knight Harrold was squiring for and judging by the sigil on his surcoat, was in some way linked to House Waynwood. “I-I hope my blow has not badly wounded you.”
I laughed it off, only to regret that as a dagger of pain came from the wound and the Septa admonished me with some tutting. “According to the Maester I’ll live, and I’ll have a scar to entice some fair maiden with when I tell them how I beat you.” Even as I smiled to make it clear I was jesting, my thoughts turned to a certain blonde-haired maiden who’d promised me a reward for doing well in the melee.
Harrold smiled at my comment and moved closer. “Aye, I suspect you will have as much attention as I, even if you’re not trueborn.” I didn’t think Harrold was taking a shot at me, but since I didn’t know him well, I couldn’t be sure. Still, I’d file that comment away in case I met him again after this tourney. “Not many of our fellow squires would willingly take a blow to gain victory. Certainly not when they were the better fighter.”
“You flatter me, my lord,” I patted my chest and batted my eyes like some easily impressed young lady.
He laughed loudly at my teasing and shook his head. “I only meant I don’t know why you didn’t wait for a clean opening. Well, cleaner.” He paused and glanced back at the knight from house Waynwood. “I’m man enough to admit you were the better fighter today. If you’d waited, I feel you would still have won.”
A touch of humility was a nice thing to see, especially in one who’d possibly been raised with the idea he might one day be the ruler of the Vale. Even in Gulltown, I’d seen far too many arrogant bastards – squires and knights – who looked down on me for being from Dorne and a bastard. “Perhaps, but the longer a fight goes, the more likely you’ll lose.” I jerked my thumb – from my good side – toward Oberyn. “Something my father has beaten into me over the last few years.”
“I’m glad to see the lesson has taken, though I suspect your sisters and cousin won’t be happy about this once we return to Sunspear.” Oberyn’s words made me wince. I’d seen Tyene’s concerned face when Oberyn had escorted me to this tent. With time, that would turn to anger at me for taking a risk. Which would be mirrored by her sisters and Arianne, meaning I’d be in for a tongue-lashing when we returned.
Fucking wonderful.
“I’m surprised your knight hasn’t taught you that yet. From the look in his eyes, he’s no summer knight.” Oberyn’s words made the Waynwood knight step up beside Harrold, placing a hand on his squire’s shoulder as he did.
“You are correct Prince Oberyn. I fought in the Rebellion, and saw the King slay Prince Rhaegar on the Trident.” I sure hope the knight wasn’t trying to anger Oberyn into doing something rash. “Ser Morten Waynwood, Prince Oberyn.” Morton lowered his head and I assume Oberyn did likewise. “And I have taught that to young Harrold here, but until today he’s felt comfortable in outlasting his opponent with skill. Mayhaps this will help the idea sink better than my words.” Morton’s gaze shifted to me even as I heard Oberyn laugh a little. “And unless I miss my guess, as the bastard son of Prince Oberyn Martell, you would be the one known as the Bloody Wolf.”
“I am, Ser Morton.” As I replied, Harrold’s eyes widened, almost as if he hadn’t linked the fact that I was Oberyn’s squire with the man having a bastard son through marriage. “Much as I’d prefer a title earned under more honourable circumstances.”
Morton laughed loudly. “I wouldn’t complain, my boy. There’s a knight in these parts who's known as the Knight of the Salt Hills.” Gods, that was a bad moniker. My reaction made Morton’s smile grow. “Aye, he hates it. Bloody Wolf is a good title, particularly if the stories I’ve heard about how you killed those Ironborn bastards are true.”
“How many do the bards in the Vale say he killed?”
“Ten. While carrying a princess on his back.” I wasn’t sure who laughed louder at that, me or Oberyn. “Aye, I figured it wasn’t that many. Still, you killed those cunts and gained a Valyrian steel blade.” Harrold’s eyes once more widened and I suspected Morton was doing this to toy with his squire. “Glad you couldn’t use that or there’d be a lot of knights looking for new squires.”
“Um… yes.”
Morton laughed at my reaction. “Don’t worry. Death does happen on occasion in squire melees. It’s the nature of them. But only those unworthy of being called a knight would seek revenge for that.” He paused and glanced toward the tent flap as the Septa finally finished covering my side in the foul-smelling gunk. “That said, I think there’ll be a fair few people who dislike you after today. Harrold here, and the Royce boy you knocked out before him were the favourites of the melee. You’ve likely cost many a fair few coin.” He tightened his grip on Harrold. “Not us though. Harrold needs to learn that skill and patience don’t always carry the day.” While that might come across as jape at my expense, I didn’t feel it was. Ser Morton seemed, at least from this first meeting, to be a generally friendly person who wasn’t going to take cheap shots. At least not intentionally.
“Is it true you saved a princess?” Harrold asked, abruptly cutting in and changing the conversation. Morton looked amused and annoyed about the question – possibly because of the timing – and while I’d expected Harrold to ask about that battle, I didn’t think he’d do so now. “Apologies.” Well, at least he understood he’d made a faux pas.
“It’s fine. And while I think the story can wait for another time,” boy did I hope he got the message, but if not I knew Ser Morton did. “I did protect my cousin, Princess Arianne, and my mother from… trouble.” I closed my eyes as the fire in my blood, the thing that had driven me to rush for victory in the melee, began to reignite. Which proved I’d have to work even harder to keep my trait-empowered rage under control. “And I got very, very lucky that day.” Oberyn’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, offering me some comfort for having to relive the day again.
“Aye, you may well have been. But you killed those bastards, earned a name and a blade. Something not many can say they’ve done. Even at three times your age.” Morton offered before he used the hand on Harrold’s shoulder to gently pull him back. “Though I think any further questions my squire has for yours Prince Oberyn can wait for later.”
“Certainly, Ser Morton. And good luck to you in the tourney.” Oberyn offered, though I caught the very slight edge in his voice. While I was willing to let the possible slights from Morton go, Oberyn sounded as if he was going to remember them.
As Ser Morton and Harrold exited the tent, I hoped the Vale knight avoided Oberyn in the lists.
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The tourney ended a few days later with a large feast to celebrate the reason for it. Oberyn hadn’t won, falling in what I regarded as the semi-finals of the joust to Lord Yohn Royce, but my stepfather didn’t seem to mind. Since I’d been a rank outsider in the squire melee, he’d won big by backing me. Combined with what Oberyn had gotten from reaching the penultimate round of the joust – after he’d paid the ceremonial price to buy back his armour and horse from Yohn Royce –we’d be leaving the Vale with more coin in our pockets than we’d left Sunspear with. The need to buy back armour when one lost a joust was, even after having seen it before, an odd thing to see up close. Yes, it was commonplace, but the prices that were set for repurchasing were, at least from what I’d seen from Oberyn when he’d bought back his and sold back to those he’d bested, stags on the dragons for what the armours were usually worth.
Currently, Oberyn was sitting at a place of honour near Lord Gerold Grafton and was talking amicably with Yohn Royce while making eyes at a nearby lady that appeared unattached. Since I was just a squire, I was sitting near the end of the hall with the other squires. At first, after the melee, most had been reluctant to talk with me. That had changed once Harrold explained who I was, which had everyone wanting to hear about how I’d earned Red Rain. Things had taken a further turn with me being the centre of attention when Tyene had started sitting with me and provided more details on my noble actions to protect her dignity.
Just like that first meal after the melee, she was sitting next to me while enjoying the attention the other squires gave her. And, it seemed, enjoying the way I wasn’t happy about her focus being on them. I’d tried to keep my anger at them flirting with her under wraps, but I’d failed as Tyene had been teasing me about it ever since that first meal. Though she’d not made any mention of her promise on the Windchaser, so I was beginning to think she enjoyed leading boys on for fun. Further evidence was provided with how flirtatious she was with the squires without promising anything in her words.
I’d become a little colder because of that first night, though that had seemed to spur something in Tyene. Every meal since that shift, she’d kept most of her attention on me. Plus, she’d started wearing more and more enticing clothing, with her dress tonight being a lovely dress coloured like the sigil of House Dayne with grey, or possibly, silver, lace edging that traced over several places on her body that naturally drew the eye.
When she’d walked into the hall this evening, the upper button on her dress undone to allow some hints of her cleavage – something even more obvious to me since she’d sat close enough to me that our legs were touching – to be seen. Several of the ladies in the hall had given her glares, and I’d felt my fury rise at the muttered words and glances they sent Tyene’s way. I might not be happy with Tyene flirting with the other squires, but those arrogant bitches had no right to judge her for how she dressed. Even if it was far more revealing than how she normally dressed, preferring an almost Septa-like lack of reveal when not in Sunspear or the Water Gardens.
I almost jumped from the bench as, even as she spoke with Donovar Royce, she placed her hand on my thigh, just above my knee and on the inside. Donovar, who was the person I’d defeated before facing off with Harrold – and in an odd twist of irony one of Harrold’s better friends – had been trying and failing each meal to convince Tyene to leave with him. She’d rejected him; always having me escort her back to the large quarters we shared with Oberyn.
While I wasn’t happy about her flirting, even if there was little that I could do about it beyond not engaging in it with her, I’d enjoyed how the first night had ended. A loud, older squire had asked how we knew each other. The mood of the squires had risen sharply when she’d said we were siblings, though it fell spectacularly once she’d revealed we were only stepsiblings. That had embarrassed the fool so much that he’d not joined us for supper the following evening.
Yet, for all the effort the others put into seducing her, she left meals with me if I was there, or with Oberyn or another girl from the Dornish party.
As the servant brought over refills for our mugs, Tyene’s hand crept northward. I looked at her wondering what she was up to as this was a new approach for her flirtations. Yet she only smiled and moved her hand higher still. Though not before using her other hand to lift her dress and allow me to see her leg.
After some hesitation, I’d played along with whatever game she was engaged in and placed my hand on her leg. Yet unlike her, I refused to move it higher, no matter how much she tried to get me to do so. Not even when her fingers brushed over my groin.
At that, I’d removed my hand from her leg and hissed, “What are you doing!” She’d replied with a smile that, if not for her flirtatious behaviour over the last week or so, would’ve caused a reaction she’d have felt. I’d glanced toward Oberyn several times after that, but in the few moments when he’d looked our way, he’d just smiled or laughed then turned back to whomever he was speaking to at that moment.
Now, after enjoying the closing feast, I was letting Tyene guide me back to our quarters. While that was what happened after most meals, something about tonight felt different. Tyene kept glancing at me, a light in her eyes, and was almost pulling me along. As if she was in a race to our quarters. Part of me hoped this might mean she wanted to take things further, to reward me for the melee, but that was tempered by my still-present irritation at her need to flirt while around me.
We entered our quarters, coming into the common area which contained a table big enough for all of us to eat at it, a sofa and a balcony that had a nice view of the sea. That was when Tyene let go of my hand and raced toward her bedroom. As the door swung shut, I growled in annoyance and turned to head to my room. I was sick of this shit. I was done flirting back and forth with her.
“Cregan.” The half-whispered use of my name from Tyene, and the sensual tone she used stopped me mid-step as I reached my door. I turned around to see her in her room, only her head sticking out from behind her door. Her hair was no longer held up as it’d been at dinner, falling like a golden waterfall against the door. “Where are you going?”
“To my…” the words died in my throat as Tyene smirked and then a leg appeared from behind the door. It was only her lower leg at first, though that soon climbed to her mid-thigh, and it was clear that she wasn’t wearing her dress anymore as the hem of her undergarment came into view.
“But I want to speak with you.” Her tone struck me like I’d put my hand into a power socket. The leg moved around the door, her foot coming to rest on the outside. I walked forward, a need, a desire growing inside me to take what I wanted.
Once I was about a metre from the door, she pulled her leg back and then opened the door fully. She stayed behind it, with only her head sticking out, but I could see her dress was haphazardly thrown over a chair near her bed. I paused in the doorframe, fighting the urges blossoming within me. A finger and a grin that would haunt my dreams for moons to come convinced me to enter fully. Once I was inside, she pushed the door closed slowly, enjoying the slow nature of the reveal that she was standing near me in nothing but a simple undergarment.
“Gods be good.” The words slipped from my lips as my eyes devoured what they saw. The undergarment was short, stopping barely a hand’s length below her waist and the pale colouration of it did nothing to hide the shape of her nipples as they caught against the fabric. My eyes wandered all over the garment, and I realised that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, not unless her panties were the same colour as the garment. I’d seen women wear less clothing in front of me in my former life, but something about the mixture of longing in Tyene’s eyes, mixed with the faint hints of uncertainty and innocence in her stance made this one of the most intoxicating moments in my combined life.
She sauntered toward me, the sweet smile on her face undermined by her state of undress. “So,” her voice was low enough that anyone on the other side of the now-closed door would struggle to hear it. “Do you remember what I said on the Windchaser?” Her hands came up next to her face and then rested on my chest as she idly played with the buttons of my tunic. Her breath smelt of wine and her skin was beginning to glow.
My eyes stayed locked on hers even as I nodded. “Y-yeah. You promised me a reward for doing well in the melee.” I could feel my need rising, a drive to grab her, take her. Yet I kept it at bay, her behaviour over the last few days still fresh in my mind.
She smiled. “That I did.” Her hands drifted into my now opened tunic, sliding toward my collar. A gentle pull had me lowering my head to hers as her hands took advantage and slipped around my neck. The kiss she placed on my lips was soft, almost hesitant, a total contrast to how she was behaving. I felt myself sinking into her, only for her to pull back as my tongue brushed against her lips. “Congratulations.”
Her whispered words sent ripples of desire flooding through me even as she unclasped her hands and her breasts slid down my chest. “Oh my!” Her eyes widened in shock as her stomach brushed against my groin. She pulled back enough to look down, no doubt seeing the reaction she’d caused. “It seems you enjoyed my kiss more than I expected.” One of her hands slid out from my tunic, and then slowly drifted lower. “Perhaps you want my help with that? After all, you did far more than just ‘well’ in the melee.”
“Tyene.” My voice was quiet yet filled with a growl as her hands reached my belt. My hands came to her hips, confirming there was nothing under the garment she was in.
“Is something wrong?” She sounded so innocent even as her fingers reached inside my pants. “Don’t you want me to helahgh…”
Her words were cut off as my lips found her. My hands gripped her waist tightly and pulled her up as my tongue smashed into her mouth. Her legs wrapped around my waist, giving my hands access to her taut rear, which they happily took.
I turned, her tongue flicking against mine, and walked slowly toward the bed.
“Oof! Oh!” The sounds fell from her lips as I fell onto the bed, trapping her beneath me. I pulled back, taking in the redness of her cheeks, the desire I felt inside being mirrored in her eyes. “Cregan…” Her tone was husky, wanting.
My lips found her neck even as my hands shot under her garment. “Gods.” Her fingers dug into my back as her legs held me close.
She wanted this, I could feel her heat, her need. And I was more than happy to make her mine.
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I woke the following morning to find the sun shining in brightly through the drawn curtains. It took me a moment to adjust to both the odd weight that was trapping my arm and pressing against me and the fact I wasn’t in my room. Once I realised last night hadn’t been a dream, Thank the Gods, and I’d taken time to enjoy the sight of the still sleeping, and likely still worn out, Tyene as she lay on my arm, I smiled happily. That slipped as I remembered that, like many quiet girls, Tyene was very, very loud when aroused. While I doubted that we’d kept the rest of the castle up – though if we had I wouldn’t be too upset about it – we shared quarters with Oberyn, and that could be an issue. While he spoke of allowing his daughters and me to sleep with whoever we wanted, I’d fucked one of his daughters in the room next to his for most of the night.
Hoping that he’d managed to bed the lady he’d been flirting with last night and taken her to her room – I’d not mention it to my mother if he had – I slipped from Tyene’s bed. That hadn’t been as easy as I’d hoped as the moment I’d pulled away, Tyene had reached for me even while sleeping.
“I trust you had an enjoyable evening?” Oberyn’s question almost made me slam Tyene’s door as I slipped into the common area of our quarters. “From the sounds I heard when I returned last night, I certainly believe Tyene did.” The blood in my veins seemed to freeze as he confirmed he’d heard us and very, very slowly, I turned to face my stepfather.
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His face was calm, giving nothing away while his eyes were cold, detached while in one hand he idly played with a goblet. All in all, he reminded me of Kaa the moment before he struck at his prey. “Sit down.” He tapped his foot on a chair and I moved toward it, even as I realised my tunic was open enough that he’d be able to see the scratches Tyene had left on my chest during one of our more energetic moments. Though once I was near the table, I took another chair, the one furthest from him. While the extra distance wouldn’t save me from his wrath if he decided to strike, it might give me just enough time to avoid the first attack.
Oberyn’s eyes followed me as I sat. We then stayed in silence, the only break coming when Rian screeched from his perch upon waking and seeing me. He would be hungry but that would have to wait until I survived this meeting with the Red Viper.
“I believe I asked you a question.”
My mouth opened to reply, but nothing came out. I gulped and licked my lips as I tried to settle my nerves. The fire I’d felt last night was gone, replaced by an understanding that I now sat in front of a more dangerous predator. “Yes, my prince…”
“Prince now, is it?”
“… we did enjoy ourselves.” I continued, ignoring Oberyn’s remark. Since I’d fucked his daughter for most of the night, calling him father or stepfather just felt wrong. “I cannot say for certain if Tyene enjoyed herself, as she’s still sleeping from our exertions, I believe you are right that, based on the sounds she made, she enjoyed herself last night.” I wasn’t sure where the courage to semi-boast about leaving his daughter in a heap on the bed came from, but I wasn’t ashamed of what we’d done.
“And this morning.” Oberyn’s tone was clipped, almost as if he was trying to keep control of his emotions. Silence once more fell over the room, and I felt fear slowly building inside, though it eased as he clicked his tongue. “Truthfully, I’m surprised it took this long for you to give in. I mean, I and your mother have known that either Tyene or Arianne would be your first. I’m just impressed you held out until this long with the way they and Nymeria torment you.”
“I…” I closed my mouth as I considered his words. The fact he wasn’t bothered that I’d bedded his daughter, or that it might’ve been his niece, and the heir to Dorne, was both expected and not so.
“Unlike my brother, I have always been clear to my children, by blood and marriage, that you are free to bed whom you want. Doran, however, whilst understanding of the needs of being young, would prefer if any relationship you entered into with Arianne was done with the understanding that there is little chance you would become her consort when she ascends to the Spear Throne.” Not trusting my words to keep me from saying the wrong thing, I chose to simply nod. Given how much Westeros values the purity of a woman in a marriage, I was always caught a little off-guard about how liberal Dorne was in that regard. I really shouldn’t be, I know, but I was. “That said,” Oberyn leaned forward as he continued, “if you so much as think of purposely hurting Tyene or any of them, there is no place in the world, known or unknown, where I will not find you.”
I gulped hard and nodded rapidly. I’d faced down insurgent ambushes, insane suicide bombers and furious COs after the odd op in a hundred was FUBARed, yet none of that compared to the danger I saw in Oberyn’s eyes as he tried to burn a hole through my skull.
“Father, what exactly are you doing with Cregan?” My head snapped round to see Tyene standing in the doorframe of her room; a bed sheet protecting her modesty while at the same time doing nothing to hide the temptations that had drawn me to her bed last night. I felt my blood pulse as the urge to start round… sixteen burned within me.
“Merely talking as any father would with their daughter’s suitor.” Oberyn’s reply was much more jovial than how he’d spoken moments earlier. I heard something move on the table and turned back to him to see he’d pushed a goblet toward me. “Now drink up, Cregan. I’m sure after your activities last night, you are feeling a little parched.”
I eyed the goblet cautiously, wondering if Oberyn had done something to it. I didn’t think he’d have done anything dangerous, but the smirk he wore did nothing to ease that concern. Therefore, I picked up the goblet and swapped it with the one he’d drunk from. Oberyn’s lips twitched upward in amusement as I took a small sip, and then my eyes widened as two small blue blinking dots appeared from the Interface in the corner of my vision.
“While the goblet I passed you was untampered, mine was not,” Oberyn said slowly as I lowered the goblet to the table, wondering what the hell the notice was about. “Since I was… around your age, I have placed a small amount of the more common poisons in my cups daily. It is said that over time a body can build up a resistance to poison, though this doesn’t work with the rarer ones. Nor those that kill with the smallest of drops.”
That… actually made perfect sense for Oberyn, and not just because of his moniker. And if, as I now suspected, one of those notices was about poison resistance, then it would be something that I’d consider doing myself. While I hoped no one would ever try to poison me, it was better to have some preparation for it if they did.
“If you have finished trying to kill him, father, I think this little talk is over.” I looked around at Tyene who smiled at me in such a way that I felt the need to claim her rising once more. “As you said we are free to bed who we wish, and I’ve already done so.” She grinned at me before turning toward her bed. “That said, I don’t feel like leaving my room this morning and hope I can have some company.”
Oberyn laughed, something that only grew louder as I pushed myself from the chair. “I believe that is my cue to leave.” I heard movement at the table behind me, but my focus was on Tyene as she reached her bed and crawled onto it. “If the young falcon or his friends come looking, I’ll tell them you are indisposed.” He laughed again even as I closed Tyene’s door with a kick. The sheet was slowly sliding off her, and once she reached the top of her bed, she turned and smiled back at me as the sheet fell away leaving her beauty fully exposed to me.
I didn’t know how long this thing with Tyene would last, or how it would change things once we got back to Dorne, but at this moment, I didn’t care. Hells, if the Gods wished to kill me today, then so long as they waited a few hours I’d die with a smile on my lips.
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The wind slid over my feathers as I scanned all that I could see. Far below, I saw the strange objects the dirt-walkers placed on the water. That they were made of the resting frames was odd, but at least it felt familiar in an unusual way. Much like the frame that the dirt-walker who served me had made for me inside his stone nest.
My dirt-walker’s ship was below, moving toward the colder weather. While up here, that didn’t bother me, the lack of heat while I rested would’ve if not for my dirt-walker servant ensuring my frame was inside the heat of his nest during the night.
To the right, smaller dirt-walker boats were moving around in groups. Those were tossing into and then lifting strange things from the water. Still, while strange they brought out the food hidden in the water. I considered swooping down and taking a meal from them, but always decided against it. The food was caught in the strange thing and there was a risk my talons or wings could also get trapped there. Plus, the meal was more satisfying when I made the kill myself, which is why the water-food was, while difficult to catch, worth every wet feather.
With the idea of an easy water-food meal, my vision moved to the dirt piles beyond the small dirt-walker objects. There I saw the odd stone nests used by the dirt-walkers, but these were nothing like the one where my dirt-walker kept me before we’d moved slowly toward the cold. Even the loud, annoying place with lots of shiny dirt-walkers had better resting places than those sad stone nests.
A wave of cold slipped over my feathers, but up this high that was fine. The winds over the wet hunting grounds had grown colder the longer we’d been away from the main nest.
My vision focused on land close, but not too close, to the stone huts. Over three dozen small hopping prey was grazing there. I angled my wings, letting the currents of the sky carry me toward the dirt and my next meal. As I soared closer, a group broke from the main pack. Their backs were to me, but from the height that I would strike, that didn’t matter. I could almost taste their flesh as I ripped it from their freshly killed hide.
Cool, calm focus mixed with the thrill of a hunt as I pulled back one wing slightly; angling to avoid a low white-water bubble to not lose sight of my meal. Closer and closer I came, the hopping prey having no idea of the terror I was about to unleash.
My wings were pulled in close, and my head angled down. I dropped through the air currents as they rushed over my feathers. Faster and faster, I dropped but my sight never left my meal. Tighter and tighter I pulled my wings against my body, limiting the feathers that the winds could touch.
The anticipation started to trick my mind into tasting the food before the kill.
Unexpected movement caught my gaze. The green dirt near the food was moving. Not much, less than a wing length, but it was strange. Wrong. Sensing danger, I spread my wings, the winds catching them and aborting my dive in an instant. I was high enough that the prey never knew, and once the oddness was gone, I could dive once more.
As I rose back into the currents, the dirt shifted, and four dirt-walkers emerged from under various ground-wrappings. A screech of anger slipped from my beak. They were hunting my food!
A need to swoop down, to claw their weak view-orbs from their flat crests, flowed through me. However, it was tempered as I saw two carrying strange bent sticks. My dirt-walker had shown me those back before my wing had recovered. The smaller sticks that came from them were fast, too fast for me to avoid for long. I knew my dirt-walker was warning me of the danger of the bent sticks, and I’d understood even if the odd squawks that came from his non-beak irritated my ears. One dirt-walker with such a stick could be a threat, though I could handle them. Two though… that was too great a risk for food. Not when other sources existed.
My anger settled as I rose back into the currents. The pathetic attempts of the dirt-walkers, as the four of them only managed to get one hopping food, helped to calm and amuse me.
As I climbed, I turned my gaze back to my dirt-walker’s object. He was not on the top, meaning he was likely still in his nest with his mate. She made the strangest sounds while they moved in that nest, but my dirt-walker liked them. I could somehow sense that, which confused me.
Still, my dirt-walker hadn’t left his nest, though the older dirt-walker with him had. While that bigger dirt-walker was trusted by my dirt-walker and sometimes tossed me food, I didn’t want to return yet. There was still time for me to hunt, to earn my food myself.
… …
I blinked several times as my vision shifted from the clouds above to the wooden planks of my cabin and sighed softly. While entering and leaving Kaa’s mind was strange, there was still a familiarity to it as he moved on the ground. With Rian, the urge to stay within him, to savour the indescribable freedom of soaring through the clouds was hard to resist. That was why I tried to limit how long I spent in the bond with Rian. I feared I’d lose myself to the clouds and never come back to my body.
Yet with us heading North instead of back to Dorne, the urge to enter Rian’s mind was a nice distraction from time on the Windchaser. When we’d left Gulltown and broken from all but one of our escorts – the others taking the various knights and squires who’d come to Gulltown for the tourney back home – I’d been surprised. Which only grew as four ships flying Manderly colours joined us. While I didn’t know who was on those ships, Oberyn apparently did and had expected our new escort. Now no one from House Manderly had taken part in the tourney, but about a dozen knights in their employ had, though since that many knights would only need at best two ships, I had to assume the others were trade ships returning home to create a bigger fleet and ward off most threats.
“Back with me, I see.”
I turned my head and saw the sight that’d greeted me every morning since we’d left Gulltown. That of Ty as she shared my bed. Like most mornings she had the sheets pulled over her, not at all enjoying the colder air. Though it did little to hide the pleasing curves of her body, nor stop her from rubbing her legs against mine. Either to stay warm or to entice me into another morning romp.
She was used to finding me sitting unnaturally still while I skinchanged so wasn’t disturbed now to see me like that. She still found it creepy, a fact she’d made clear to Arianne, Nymeria and Sarella when they’d been brought in on that facet of my magic, but since we’d started sleeping together, she’d not complained about it once. Though she had, at least for this morning, not tried to draw me from the connection with her feminine wiles.
“Aye. While being in Rian’s mind, soaring among the clouds is… without definition, it cannot compare to the wonder before my eyes.”
Ty laughed softly. “Such flowery words.” Her hand came closer with a single finger touching my chest and then running over the hints of the muscles I had. “Yet instead of ravishing this wonder, you left for the mind of a bird.” Her finger moved upward and tilted my chin toward her once it reached there. “Your words betray you.”
I smirked even as she flicked my chin and removed the finger. Leaning closer I inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent that radiated from her in the morning. “Then let me prove my words with action,” I whispered before my lips caught against hers, one hand moved to remove the sheet from her body while the other helped guide us over until I was on top of her.
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“I hate the fucking cold.”
I chuckled as Ty muttered those words even while standing wrapped in a thick woollen cloak and leaning against me as if she was trying to steal my body heat. Yes, there was a breeze blowing across the harbour as the Windchaser was guided into the inner harbour of White Harbour, but it wasn’t that cold. Though it seemed even less an issue than when I’d spent a year plus in Winterfell. That had me wondering if Blood of the Dragon’s Flames also granted me some protection from the cold. Ty had commented a lot on how warm I was, something she was currently trying to take advantage of.
“Don’t worry. Once we’ve met with Lord Manderly and had something to eat, I’ll find a way to warm you up.” As I spoke, I warped my arm around her shoulders. While I was also wearing a cloak, mine wasn’t that thick though Ty didn’t seem to mind as she pushed against my side.
“Promises, promises.” She whispered into my neck as one hand started trying to pull my tunic out of my breeches.
“Perhaps you might wait until after we’ve spoken to Lord Manderly,” Oberyn suggested from my other side. Like me, he was wearing a thinner cloak, and a smirk danced on his face as he listened to my interaction with Ty. “And mayhaps keep the noise down. Captain Larazar has complained that the crew have grown restless due to some rather… vocal comments during the night. I’d hate for you to traumatise our hosts.”
“I accept that challenge.”
Oberyn laughed and I smiled at Ty’s response. Ever since our first night in Gulltown, Ty had been insatiable. Or at least until I wore her out enough that she’d be so tired she had to sleep. While I wasn’t complaining about that, Gods no, I could understand the crew’s issues. Ty was loud during sex and unlike a keep, the walls on a ship weren’t thick enough to mute most of the sounds. From the glares I got every morning I think the crew of the Windchaser was furious that I kept denying them a good sleep, impressed I could go for so long every night and jealous that I had someone as beautiful as Ty to warm my bed.
Still, if I wanted things to continue apace, I’d have to convince her to quieten down. Or find a way to do so. The few times I’d placed my hand over her mouth, she’d either bit my palm or moaned as she sucked on my fingers. Neither was particularly effective at limiting her voice, and I’d rather not have Catelyn throw us out of Winterfell for the sounds Ty made. That had my mind turn back to a few nights ago when I’d jokingly suggested I might need to gag and tie her up and she’d responded with a wanton moan.
Of course, that had my mind drift to something she’d brought up the following morning, and a few others as well. It seemed that Arianne and Nymeria had both made clear to Ty that they wanted all the details once we returned to Dorne. Ty believed both girls, plus likely Sarella and maybe a few others as well, would want a turn. That idea scared and excited me in ways that made it hard to think about anything beyond fucking Ty again. Which, given what’d happened after each time she brought this up, might’ve been her intent.
Dornish girls might be the end of me, but Gods, what a fucking way to go.
“As much as I’d enjoy the faces of Northerners hearing such things, I’m being serious. Ignoring that the Manderlys are much like the Fowlers, Daynes and Yronwoods in their status within a kingdom, White Harbour is their only city. Given the slowly growing trade between the North and Dorne, my brother and I don’t wish to risk that trade, and the growing bonds of trust, while it is still young and fragile. And angering the Manderlys would not reflect well upon us when I speak to Lord Stark about opportunities that I wish to discuss with him.”
Ty pouted adorably at her father’s words, but it only drew another round of laughter from him. As for me, my mind was pulled to the things she could do with her mouth and talented tongue.
I shook my head, trying to get my mind out of the gutter as the harbourmaster, who’d come onboard to ensure we docked safely, guided my ship toward a pier close to the shore. My hand that wasn’t around Ty’s shoulders tapped at my waist, reassuring me that Red Rain was still there. Over breakfast this morning, Oberyn had slid the holstered sword to me and stated that since I’d won the squires’ tourney, he felt I’d earned the right to wear it. He’d added, and I agreed, that I still had years to go to be comfortable with it, but he felt comfortable that I wouldn’t slice off a limb the first time I unsheathed the blade.
Having it on my waist just felt right. As if a part of me that I hadn’t known was missing, was now with me. Much as how I felt with Kaa and Rian at times. Ty too, though that was a more physical connection than magical. At least in some ways.
It took the harbourmaster about ten minutes to guide the Windchaser into its berth, for the mooring lines to be tied and the landing ramp to be deployed before we finally stepped off my ship. Oberyn took point with me and Ty just behind and Captain Larazar and the dozen Martell guards with us behind. The rest of the party was on the other ship which was in the process of being led to the pier next to ours.
At the end of the dock, standing on solid ground, was a man that looked almost as wide as he was tall, which was saying something as he looked to be around Oberyn’s height. Even without the colouring of his surcoat or the sigil on it, I’d have wagered a few dragons that this was Ser Wylis Manderly, heir to White Harbour. Though the two girls at his side, one with hair Manderly green, I couldn’t name, though I suspected they were his daughters. Their ages were hard to judge for certain, but the taller one looked about Sarella’s height with the other shorter by about a head.
“Prince Oberyn, it has been some time since we’ve seen you in White Harbour,” Wylis stated as he moved, well, waddled forward, with an arm outstretched.
Oberyn grasped the arm. “That it has, Ser Wylis.” Oberyn shifted so he wasn’t blocking Wylis’ view of me. “My son has missed his northern roots.” Wylis and the girls looked my way. Wylis’ smile grew as he saw Ty leaning against me. The older girl’s brow creased while the younger looked as if she wanted to say something. “After he won the squire tourney in Gulltown, I felt rewarding him with a trip to Winterfell was worthwhile. I do hope our visit isn’t an inconvenience.”
Wylis returned his focus to Oberyn while the girls continued to watch me as I moved up to my stepfather’s side. “Certainly not, Prince Oberyn. While the bonds between Dorne and the North are still weak, they grow stronger each moon. As does the bastard of Brandon Stark you raise in Sunspear.” Wylis’ response had seemingly suggested Obara had settled well into her role as a noble lady – or as much of one as she’d ever be – but I couldn’t focus on that as Wylis slipped his arm from Oberyn and extended it to me. “Congratulations on your victory, Bloody Wolf.”
“Thank you, Ser Wylis.” I clasped his arm. “The fight was exhilarating, though I didn’t emerge unscathed.”
Wylis chuckled. “As it should be for any good fight.” His eyes roamed over my frame, thankfully not lingering on Ty or Red Rain. “You’ve certainly got your father’s build. What are you five and ten?”
“Three and ten, Ser Wylis.” Wylis’ eyes widened, as did the eyes of the two girls before he chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t have any Umber blood?” I laughed and shook my head as he unclasped his arms. “Still, before we continue, I imagine you, your family and crew are hungry after your journey.” At that, a few servants came closer bringing the bread, salt and drink that placed us under Guest Rights. While I didn’t doubt our safety with the Manderlys, the custom was important in Westeros, doubly so in The North. Which reminded me to find a way to kill Walder Frey, and possibly most of his house, if the chance presented itself.
“We thank you for your generosity. We shan’t press it for more than a night, perhaps two before we travel onto Winterfell.” Oberyn replied after taking the first bite. I took some bread as he continued. “Cregan here is anxious to meet his cousins, and I long to see how my eldest daughter is doing.”
“I understand completely. And I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear she and Benjen Stark are doing well.” Wylis’ smile grew. He shifted his weight and indicated for us to follow, only for him to stop as a gentle cough came from the older girl. “Ah, yes. I hope they can forgive my manners, but may I present my daughters, Wynafryd and Willa.”
Wynafryd, the eldest, stepped forward and curtsied perfectly. “Prince Oberyn.”
Oberyn smiled as he took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. “Lady Wynafryd. Soon you’ll have offers from all over the Seven kingdoms for the hand of such a beautiful young lady.” Wynafryd’s cheeks reddened at the praise as Wylla stepped forward. She didn’t curtsey though, instead, her focus was on me. Or more specifically the sword at my waist.
“Is that Red Rain?” She asked pointedly. Wylis looked only slightly irritated by the behaviour of his youngest daughter. As Oberyn chuckled at the behaviour, Tyene slipped between me and Wylla.
“It is, Lady Wylla. I’m Tyene Sand, daughter of Prince Oberyn,” she said offering a small curtsey which Wylla returned though her eyes kept drifting back to Red Rain. Wynafryd was watching too, though her eyes were on Tyene’s other hand which was wrapped around my waist.
“I’ve never heard of House Sand?” Wylla asked with a smirk.
“We’re the biggest house in Dorne, my lady. I have over ten thousand brothers and sisters.” I chuckled at hearing Tyene use that line, which also drew laughter from Wylis.
“An interesting way to phrase things, Lady Tyene.” Wylis offered, showing her more respect than her status required. Either because of who her father was or because of how she’d deflected his daughter’s teasing question. Or possibly both. “Still, I think it would be best if we save questions for once we’re in the New Castle. If we dally much longer, I fear my father may wonder what trouble we’ve gotten into.”
“Of course, of course. Please, lead on.”
Wylis indicated for Oberyn to walk beside him. I doubted the fat knight would walk to the keep as that was, from what I’d seen through Rian’s eyes, on the top of a small hill about half a mile from the harbour. More than likely, he’d escort us to the two carriages that were waiting about a hundred paces away and we’d ride in those.
The two Manderly girls fell into step behind Oberyn and their father, and I pulled Ty along with me behind them.
“Is it true you’re the son of Brandon Stark?”
“Wylla!” Wynafryd’s head snapped from her sister to me. “Forgive my sister. She’s… still learning how to be a proper lady.”
I laughed at the little interaction. “It’s quite alright, Lady Wynafryd,” I replied with a smile. “And, aye, I am, Lady Wylla. Though I never met him.”
“That is sad to hear,” Wylis spoke as we reached the carriages. “If you’d like, I do recall a few stories about him. You might not have his eyes, something of your mother those are, but I think you shared similar interests.” His smile grew as he glanced at Ty.
“I would enjoy hearing stories of my father, Ser Wylis. While I don’t regret any of my time being raised by Prince Oberyn, I do wonder what my birth father was like.” Oberyn’s lips twitched, though the humour in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t angry about any apparent put-down.
Wylis laughed heartily. “Well then. Provided your friend can untangle herself from you, perhaps you might ride with me and Prince Oberyn, and while we travel, I will regale you with the few stories I have regarding the Wild Wolf.”
… …
----------------------------------------
… …
More than half a moon later, the caravan of people that had left White Harbour finally reached Winterfell. Upon hearing we were travelling to Winterfell, Lord Wyman Manderly decided his granddaughters would travel with us. While he claimed it was to see if one or both might serve as a handmaiden for Sansa, I felt he was hoping to secure a betrothal with either Robb or Beron. Thus, Wylis and his wife decided to travel with us. And since Wylis wanted to ride with Oberyn, myself and the three knights of Dorne who’d travelled on the other Martell ship and their squires, that meant Ty had to share a carriage with his wife and daughters. Still, I was glad that none of the knights were Daemon as the less I saw the young knight the better things were.
The three knights who’d come with us were from houses Vein, Casgar and Woods. The first two were minor houses sworn to House Martell and the last sworn to House Dayne. Somewhere in the party was Erac, who while not a knight had been serving as my guard ever since my time in Winterfell.
While I’d enjoyed riding with Oberyn, Wylis and the various knights and squires accompanying us, I missed Ty. She was riding and sleeping with the Manderly girls and their mother, Leona Woolfield, a daughter of a semi-minor house from the North near White Harbour. After having Ty in my bed every night for several weeks, suddenly going cold turkey from her was making me irritable. Something both Oberyn and Wylis had enjoyed commenting on. The only thing that made it tolerable was the rare moments when we stopped, and I could steal away Ty from the camp. We hadn’t managed to get up to anything, mainly as Ty wasn’t willing to fuck in the cold snow. Still, her promise that she wanted me to spend a day and night straight in her quarters once we reached Winterfell made me happier than I’d expected to see the first hints of the great keep of the North as we came over the crest of a hill.
Wintertown was all but deserted, which wasn’t a surprise. Nor, as my horse walked through the gate of the outer wall of Winterfell, the small notice the Interface gave me.
Magical Area Entered!
Winterfell
As the blood of the Starks is strong within your veins, while you are within the walls of Winterfell, all magic relating to the Starks gains a 5% boost in power, duration, and magic level growth.
…
I sent it away with a thought even as I realised that I could use the Godswood to further boost improvements with my skinchanging. I was currently at level 46 with Skinchanging and hoped to use the boosts in Winterfell to get that to 50 before we left.
Those thoughts were pushed to the side as I passed through the inner wall and entered the main courtyard of Winterfell. The first thing that stood out was that the old tower, the same one Bran fell from in the canon timelines, was gone. I’d have to ask about that as taking it down was an unexpected ripple, and I needed to understand why.
On the steps of the Great Keep, I saw Ned, Catelyn, Benjen and Obara all standing. Ned’s kids were there as well, including Alysanne though she was standing behind the trueborn children with Theon. I was looking forward to speaking with my cousins, and for the older ones, giving them gifts that Oberyn had arranged. Since he’d not told me we were coming to the North until after Gulltown, I hadn’t prepared anything for them, but Oberyn had. That explained why he’d asked about Ned’s children after the last round of letters I’d gotten via merchants from Alysanne and Beron about a moon before we’d left for the tourney in Gulltown. Those two wrote to me more than Robb who was, according to Alysanne’s letters, spending more time with Ned to learn how to one day be Lord of Winterfell.
Yet for all my joy at seeing my cousins again, my focus was on Obara. Not only was her belly enlarged, suggesting she was with child, but she was holding a small bundle close to her chest and trying desperately to not keep looking at it. I frowned as I realised the babe was both my cousin and my step-niece or nephew due to my relationship with the parents. That was confusing, much like the fact my aunt, Allyria Dayne was the same age as Ty and, from the comments that Ty had dropped, always got flustered when Ty, Arianne and Nymeria joked about me around her.
Movement drew me from my thoughts, and I looked down to see a stable boy taking the reins of my horse. I slid off the horse, and after asking the boy to find a carrot for the horse, walked toward the Starks. Wylis and Oberyn were already there, a servant walking from them with a tray suggesting Guest Rights had been invoked.
Instead of heading directly there, I moved toward the carriage carrying the ladies as it came to a stop. At the back of the carriage, inside a sealed chest, were the gifts Oberyn had arranged for my cousins, though those for Arya and Bran were as close to generic as you could get in Westeros as I knew next to nothing about them in this timeline.
Leona emerged first and I offered her a hand. “I see your time in Dorne hasn’t removed your Northern manners.”
“Dorne isn’t as relaxed about etiquette as many believe, Lady Leona,” I replied with a smile as I helped her from the carriage. Leona smiled back, and I repeated my actions with her daughters. As Ty came out, her eyes lit up as she saw me waiting.
“Gods, I want you,” she whispered as she pulled me close, slipping her arm around my waist.
“Later. For now, try to behave yourself.” I replied quietly before kissing her gently near her ear.
When we pulled apart, I saw the Manderly ladies watching. Wynafryd’s cheeks had reddened though she wasn’t looking away, Wylla looked bored by everything while Leona was harder to read. Almost as if she wasn’t happy about us being together while still accepting of it.
“Ladies,” I lowered my head and escorted them toward Ned, Oberyn and Wylis.
“I’m sure you remember your nephew.” I didn’t know how Oberyn knew I was approaching as his back was to me, but his timing was impeccable. As I’d just taken a bite of the bread brought to invoke Guest Rights.
Ned’s eyes widened as I walked up the steps to where he and his family were gathered. “Aye, it’s good to see you again Cregan.” Catelyn had a smile on her face though her eyes had narrowed considerably when she’d seen me approach with Ty on my arm.
“Lord Stark, Lady Stark.” I bowed as I greeted them. “It is good to be back in Winterfell with my father’s family.” I glanced over at Benjen and Obara, who seemed to glow as she gently rocked the bundle in her arms. “Though I see it has grown in my absence.” At that, I looked over to Ned’s children, seeing Bran and Arya there
“Aye, that it has.” Ned stepped forward and clasped his hands on my forearms. “As have you it seems.” He said without having to look down on me like he had the last time I’d been in Winterfell. “Though if you keep growing like this, people will think your father was an Umber.” I chuckled at that even as he kept speaking. “You look more and more like Brandon with each passing moon, though those eyes are clearly from your mother.”
I lowered my head slightly. “It gladdens me to hear that, uncle. I hope while we’re here, I might hear more stories about my birth father.” I avoided making any comment about my eyes as I’d rather not relive the changes brought on by Blood of the Dragon’s Flames once more. At least not the physical ones that had resulted in me being bedridden for two days as my body underwent changes brought on by the perk.
The more magical changes were impressive though. I’d gained a 50% boost to levelling up my Fire Magic and the same drop in mana cost for what I could do with the magic, though it had made it far harder for me to use and improve Water Magic.
Taking advantage of the silence between me and Ned, Wylis cut in. “Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn, may I introduce my wife, Leona, and our daughters, Wynafryd and Wylla.” It was a touch rude but, at the same time, Oberyn reintroducing me to my uncle had been out of order since, even though Oberyn was from a Great House, I was a bastard. Still, as the Starks moved to speak with the Manderlys, I shuffled over to my cousins.
“Cregan!” Beron called out excitedly as I came closer, then broke ranks to hug me.
“Hello, Beron.” I laughed as I returned the hug, though I could only pat his upper back due to the height difference. It’d been hinted in the letters from him that he still held me in high regard, but this behaviour helped prove that was still the case. Though I did hope the slight case of hero-worship he’d been developing had been tempered by time and distance. I looked at my other cousins. “Robb, it’s been some time since I’ve seen you.”
“Aye, that it has,” Robb replied as I broke from Beron to hug the heir to Winterfell. “Gods, you’ve grown.” He added as we pulled apart. He didn’t appear short, but with me having taken the Large trait at character creation, and having hit puberty early, I’d shot up and now stood as tall as many men at barely thirteen and a half. “Alysanne.”
The hidden Targaryen hugged me back but stayed quiet. As we broke the hug her face had reddened slightly, and she avoided eye contact. While that was a little odd, I put it aside and looked at the younger Starks. “Sansa, I see you’re growing more and more like your mother each day.” She smiled but stayed quiet, behaving as a proper young Southron lady should. I repressed a sigh of annoyance at Catelyn filling her head with such stupid nonsense. I faced the two youngest and knelt, though I was still taller than both. “And are you the little terrors I hear about in letters?”
“That’s Arya and Bran.” Robb supplied after laughing. “They’ve been…”
“Is it true you killed a dozen Ironborn with your fists?”
“Arya!”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the behaviour of the Stark girls. Arya, while still young, already had that spark of rebelliousness. And Sansa, damn her mother, needed to tell her off instead of bonding with her.
“… dying to meet you.” Robb finished with a rueful shake of his head as Alysanne covered her mouth and Theon rolled his eyes.
“Aye, I can see that,” I said to Robb before looking at Arya. “It wasn’t a dozen, and certainly not my bare fists. I was barely older than you at the time and, as you’re likely aware, punching someone fully grown only hurts your hand.” I ruffled her hair, enjoying getting to do it to someone else that disliked it, and then looked up at Robb, Beron and Alysanne. “Where have they been getting these wild stories from?”
Alysanne, Robb and Theon – rather surprisingly – pointed at Beron, who had the sense to look away sheepishly.
“The truth isn’t much milder,” Ty added as I felt her hand come to rest on my shoulder. With a gentle squeeze that is both loving and demanding of attention. “After all, he did kill four of those scum and won the sword now at his waist.”
As I stood, everyone’s eyes were drawn to the sheath. I glared at Ty, promising her I’d collect payment for her words later. Her smile made it clear she was looking forward to it, and so much more.
I had to look away, lest I’d try and take her here and now and cause a scene. To help me stay in control, I unsheathed Red Rain slightly, letting the sunlight catch the distinctive ripples that marked it as a Valyrian steel blade.
“While I’m sure they’d enjoy the story, perhaps it would be best if we continued inside.” I turned at Benjen’s words to see he’d come over. The others had all disappeared, likely heading into the Great Keep for a meal and warmth. “While we’re all fine with the weather, I do believe Lady Tyene isn’t.”
Ty smiled gratefully at Benjen as she slid her arm through mine. “Unlike you wolves, I prefer the warmth of the Dornish sun on my skin.” The way she looked at me as she finished, and the smirk on her lips, had my mind wandering.
If I wasn’t careful, we’d not even make it to the Great Hall before one of us pulled the other into a hidden alcove. Not that either of us would complain.
… …