The Water Runs Red 1
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(Circa 297AC)
I lifted my head from the chart as someone knocked at the door to my solar in Northpoint. “Come,” I replied, rolling up the map. By the time I had it secured, Edric and Trystane had entered, Daemon behind them closing the door. “Ah, good, you are here.” I stood, closing the window to the solar so none could see in. No one could climb through the window, as it wasn’t wide enough for a child, but there was still a chance someone could listen in. “Please, sit.”
To help limit the chances of that, the guards outside had orders to randomly patrol around the building to check that window and the few others the building held. At night, the windows were barred, preventing anyone from tossing anything into the room, while more guards were placed on duty to monitor the building. Perhaps I was being overly cautious, but with most of my men being former pirates who’d been forced at sword-point to bend the knee, I was taking nothing for granted.
With the window secured, I walked around the desk, placing my hand down near Kaa. The viper lifted his head, and understanding what I wanted, began slithering toward my arm as I rested against the front of the desk, towering over my squires as they sat in two chairs just in front of me.
“Ser Daemon says you wish to discuss our training, My Lord.”
I nodded at Trystane, still finding it odd for a Prince of Dorne to call me a Lord. I wasn’t, but it was easier to accept than having them call me Ser. If we were alone, and it was clear I wasn’t acting as their knight, then they were free to call me by my name – we were cousins after all – however, for training, and in public they had to use either ‘My Lord’ or ‘Ser’.
Technically I wasn’t a Lord, though most of the men who served me, along with every villager in Northpoint and several merchants in Sunspear used the term when addressing me. While I had land now, with Dustspear being mine to rule as I saw fit, I didn’t feel comfortable in the role. I wasn’t a Pirate Lord – a title I disliked but used simply because it helped signify the major figures in the Stepstones – nor was my holding recognized by any of the major powers on either side of the Narrow Sea as being subservient to them. At least not officially.
Doran considered me the Lord of Dustspear, though he could never use that term in public. Adding territory in the Stepstones like that would place him against the Free Cities in Essos, and possibly even the Iron Throne. While I knew he planned for that one day by marrying Ari to Viserys, he didn’t know I knew, and even then, had warned me that it was only a matter of time until King’s Landing and the Free Cities learnt of our connection.
I’d already been aware of that, as while the Martells had good control over information that flowed in and out of the Shadow City – something I’d had a hand in with the idea of purchasing stakes in the various brothels and taverns in the city – Varys had his little birds everywhere. From there the matter would be taken to the Hand and the Small Council.
It was unlikely that Robert would give two fucks about my actions, bar perhaps, regretting not being able to join the fight but from King’s Landing news of my actions would reach the ears of others. The obvious figures who’d learn of it, in theory, were Ned, Tywin Lannister, and Olenna Tyrell. I didn’t think my uncle would care about my choices, only that Beron and Alysanne weren’t with me, which they weren’t. Olenna might not give much credence or have much care for my actions, but as the true power in the Reach, she’d be curious as to what Doran was doing by having me take Dustspear. Tywin would probably have a similar reaction, bar perhaps remembering our meetings during the Greyjoy Rebellion, events that had transpired to leave us both with Valyrian Steel blades.
I’d received word that the Lord of Casterly Rock had Nightfall reforged into something more suitable for House Lannister. I hadn’t yet had it confirmed who had done the work, but I suspected it was Tobho Mott. The Master blacksmith in King’s Landing was the one who’d reforged Ice and was claimed to have the skill to do such work. I had little interest in going to King’s Landing – for a multitude of reasons – currently, but I knew that inside the next year or so, I would get Mott or someone else as skilled to reforge Red Rain for me to better suit my needs.
Thinking of the Greyjoy Rebellion, my thoughts turned for a brief moment to Asha, and I wondered how she and the child growing within her were doing. I didn’t have ravens to send, so it was hard to keep in regular contact, but once Redwater was taken, I hoped to return to Sunspear in time for the child’s birth.
“My Lord?”
I blinked, realising I’d gotten lost in my thoughts for a moment. “My Apologies. My mind was elsewhere.” I looked down at the squires offering the pair a warm smile even as Kaa’s head came to rest on my shoulder, his body draped like a loose scarf around my neck.
Doran’s logic in having me take Trystane as my squire made perfect sense. At least when one knew of the magic I had, and the young Prince held the potential to wield. As a third child, and second son, Trystane’s options for life were limited to marrying a Lady in Dorne who inherited a keep, some minor holdfast of his own, or remaining in Sunspear to serve Ari’s children. Much as Manfrey Martell had done.
Edric was, even now, the more unexpected choice. His mother hated me – because I was a bastard, and because she considered me a threat to Edric’s place as heir to Starfall, and because I worshipped the Old Gods. Frankly, if I never had to deal with that stuck-up Reach bitch again, I’d be glad. However, it seemed that Eric had done enough to convince his father that I was a suitable figure to train him to knighthood. I was sure Lord Aldric was getting regular earfuls from his wife, but that was his problem, not mine.
“How are you enjoying Northpoint?” I asked for the sake of easing the pair into today’s meeting.
“It is small, My Lord, but the people here are committed.”
“Yes,” Edric agreed with his friend, “though many of your men are, um…”
I chuckled and shared a look with Daemon. “They are scum, Edric. Most barely worthy of being alive, but they bent the knee, signed the same charter you two have, and I have use of them. Even so, I suspect many would, given the chance, return to their former lives, which is why they are little more than tools for me to throw at my enemies in the Steps.”
“Is that not a touch harsh, My Lord?”
“It is,” I replied to Trystane, which earned a chuckle from Daemon. “However, to take the rest of the Stepstones, or at the very least hold what I now have, I need men willing to fight. At least enough that they fear death by my hand over that of my enemies. The sellswords, such as Bronn and Cadye, are better and slightly more trustworthy. However, their loyalty is controlled by whoever pays them best. For now, that is me, but it might not always remain so.”
“Ser Bronn is a skilled warrior, My Lord.”
I threw my head back and laughed even as Ymir, roused by my reaction, started stretching. “Bronn is no knight, Edric. Nor is Cayde or any of the others. They are as skilled as many knights, perhaps even a match for Prince Oberyn in the case of Bronn, but none have ever been knighted.”
“Gods, the idea of dropping any of that lot in court and expecting them to behave is as likely as you worshipping the Seven,” Daemon suggested, making me laugh once more even as Ymir made his way to me.
“Less so, I would say. Which is saying something.” Daemon had, since we’d repaired our friendship, asked about my worship, and if it were part of why I could skinchange. He wasn’t particularly religious and had never had – even when we were at odds – an issue about my worship of the Old Gods, and I suspected some of the new curiosity came from his pursuit of Alysanne. I’d explained that skinchanging, while a Northern ability, was tied more to blood than the worship of the Old Gods; though I suspected it didn’t hurt to pay respect to the Gods.
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“However,” I said, shifting the topic as Ymir reached my side, pushing his massive head under my free hand so I could scratch him as he settled against my desk, “that is not why I summoned you today. As Daemon said, I have training for you to begin. However, it is not something I suspect either of you have considered, and this training is not. Outside of those in this room or certain members of House Martell, to be discussed with anyone.”
“Yes, My Lord.” The pair replied together, though it was clear both were curious and a little apprehensive, about what was going on.
“Tell me, what is the position of The Faith regarding magic?” the pair blinked, confused by the seemingly random shift in topic even as Ymir stared at the pair. I gave the direwolf a – for him – gentle push, and after looking at me to confirm, shifted. As he moved toward the pair, he drew their attention. “I believe I asked a question,” I commented as the boys petted Ymir as soon as he was close enough, thinking he was simply seeking attention from them as mine was talking.
“The Septons preach that it is used by those in service to the Lord of the Seven Hells, My Lord,” Trystane replied, his hand scratching behind one of Ymir’s ears while Edric scratched the other. “Any who use it are little better than demons to be killed for the good of others before they use their vile powers to corrupt and seduce those who follow the Seven.”
I growled slightly, annoyed at the bile that had poured into the young prince’s mind over the years. “Do you agree with that, Edric?” I asked my cousin, pushing aside the urge to slip into Rian’s mind and command him to rip out Septon Dontar’s eyes and tongue.
“I… Um.” Edric looked down from me to Ymir and then to Kaa who rested peacefully on my shoulder. Few were comfortable with the viper’s location, but that was perhaps why I insisted on letting the metre-plus snake use my shoulders as a resting position. “No, My Lord.”
My brow rose at the conviction in Edric’s tone. “Oh? And why is that?” I wondered if he’d heard or seen something in Sunspear that had him questioning the Faith.
“B-Beron speak of how his brother, Robb, has a direwolf like Ymir, My Lord.” Edric’s eyes stayed on me as he spoke, even as his hand continued to scratch Ymir. “From the way he speaks, I think Beron is jealous of his brother, and how close his friendship with Quicksilver is.”
“Something I suspect he also feels toward me and Ymir.”
“Yes. Along with Rian and Kaa.” Edric gulped even as Trystane gave him a side-on glance. “H-he also has told us of the legends of the Kings of Winter. How, from the time of Brandon the Builder until King Torrhen, it was said that the Starks were men and beasts. How the direwolf w-was more than just the sigil of their house, and…” He gulped and looked down, unable to hold my gaze any longer.
“About how it is said that the Starks could commune with breasts, with direwolves. Something that the Faith, in all their glory,” I rolled my eyes to make clear my opinion on that matter, “feel is the domain of demons and their worshipers. That it is the Old gods who are demons that need to be purged.”
I stopped there, feeling my anger begin to boil. Though when both boys nodded, the fury rose further. “Remind me,” I said to Daemon as the boys refused to meet my gaze, though neither stopped petting Ymir; as if drawing strength from him. “When we return to Sunspear to have words with Septon Dontar.”
“So long as it remains only words,” Daemon replied cautiously. “I would rather not be forced to flee Westeros because the Faith wants our heads.”
“In the name of the Gods, I promise that I shall not draw steel or raise my fist to the Septon, or any of his misguided flock.” A smirk came to my lips as I replied, already wondering what the Septon might do to anger any of my companions. As if sensing my idea, Kaa hissed loudly, drawing concerned looks from my squires along with a roll of the eyes from Daemon.
“A-” Trystane began cautiously, regaining my focus, “Are the legends true?”
“Do you wish they were true?” I replied with a wide smile, enjoying their reactions. Seeing how people first reacted to magic, and what I could do, was something I always enjoyed. Oberyn had been the most laid back, both because he’d already suspected what I could do while the boys were reacting similarly to how others their age had.
“I…” Trystane again gulped before really speaking. “Yes, My Lord. I do.”
“As do I,” Edric chimed in, the fear giving way to excitement.
“Even if it means everything you learnt from Septons, Septas, and others regarding it, the Old Gods, and other things are not just wrong, but blatant lies designed to push an agenda?” The pair nodded, which had my smile grow. “Excellent, though you should be careful about what you wish for,” I added with what, to others, possibly sounded like a deranged crackle. “Now, while my ability to bond with Ymir, Kaa, and Rian is not something either of you should be capable of – it’s a gift for those with the blood of the first men after all – though I will demonstrate it to you later, perhaps there are other forms of magic you might have some inclination toward. Something, perhaps, that is from the history of your Houses.” I looked at both equally, but my mind was on Trystane wondering if he’d get the hint.
“Water!” The Martell boy called out, causing Ymir to pull his head and fix the boy with a withering glare. “I, uh…” Trystane continued, his eyes darting between me and the offended direwolf. “I mean that House Nymeros Martell has a connection to the Rhoynar. They were said to be capable water mages who rivalled the Valyrian Freehold for a time.” As he explained, his hand came back to Ymir, the direwolf relaxing as he resumed petting the beast.
“The Rhoynar were powerful mages, a trait that has been lost for centuries, but still resides in your blood.” Trystane frowned, not getting the meaning in my words while Edric looked lost. That made sense as he had likely never considered other forms of magic. “The ability to shape, control, and direct water – and other liquids – is one that House Nymeros Martell has held ever since Princess Nymeria married Mors Martell to unite the cultures.” As I spoke I moved my free hand toward a goblet that I’d purposely left out and filled for this meeting. “Your family, and others, believed that the magic was a myth; something added to stories to give them flavour. However, magic is not a myth, merely dormant.”
As I continued, my hand moved over the goblet, summoning the wine within it. It rose in a column, twisting around like rope before I fashioned a rough facsimile of a snake out of the burgundy fluid. Kaa hissed challengingly, not liking the shape of the wine, yet confused by the lack of heat and smell he’d expect of another snake. My squires had stopped moving, much to Ymir’s disapproval, as the wine rose into the air, and they only took their attention from the wine when I chuckled.
“Trystane, your father, uncle, sister, and some of your cousins have unlocked the gift within their blood, and it is why…” I stopped, pulling back as Kaa flew through my vision. The viper clasped his jaw down on the body of the wine-serpent, and I chuckled as I sensed his confusion at why he couldn’t taste his kill.
The long tongue flicked out, tasting the wine, making him rear back. A shake of his head was followed by him turning to look at me, his nose almost touching mine. I grinned, enjoying his irritation as the attack was something he’d done whenever I created a serpent from water or wine. He knew I was the cause of the false challenge, and I delighted in his continuing to attack such creations.
Eventually, he turned away, slithering around my shoulders to find a new resting position. “As I was saying,” I resumed as Kaa moved around, “the ability to harness water magic was one of the major reasons your father allowed you to become my squire.”
“But you are not a Martell,” Edric blurted out angrily. “At least not by blood.”
“He is right. The last Martell to marry the Lord of Starfall was over a century ago,” Trystane added.
“Indeed, it was, though water magic isn’t the only gift that I possess,” I replied with a wide, all-knowing smile. “Beyond skinchanging, which I will demonstrate later, I have several other tricks.” At that, my hand reached out toward them. Turning it palm-upward, the pair pulled back as a small ball of fire blossomed from nowhere above my skin. “Water is but one of the four basic elements that a mage can potentially wield. It, along with fire, wind, and earth, are magic I am capable of controlling, though my strength lies within the flames.”
As I spoke the fireball shifted, turning into the firebird – I refused to call it a phoenix – that lifted off from my palm with a sweep of its wings. The firebird didn’t need to lift off as a flesh and blood bird did, but I found the action instinctual; memories of my time sharing Rian’s mind shaped how the firebird moved.
“Command over the elements comes not from my father, so it must come from my mother. Lady Ashara of House Dayne.” At that, Edric’s eyes snapped from the now circling firebird, which Kaa ignored as it was far enough away to not be a potential challenge or meal. “It is said Dawn was forged by the founder of House Dayne from the metal of a fallen star, and with the gifts I have, I wonder if perhaps that was not all the star blessed our family with.”
The hints of anger and jealousy that had marred Edric’s expression when he felt Trystane had something he’d never have, had faded. Now all that existed on his face was a mixture of wonder, excitement, and curiosity. Something mirrored by Trystane, the Martell boy’s eyes kept drifting toward the goblet from which I’d summoned the wine-serpent.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if Edric had a gift for magic, but it was a possibility that deserved to be explored. From all I understood, magic in this world flowed through blood, meaning my source of elemental magic had to come from somewhere. Since it wasn’t from the Starks, it had to be through the Daynes. There was no connection to House Targaryen, at least not where any female of that family had married directly into House Dayne, but even if there had been, it wouldn’t explain anything beyond my command of fire.
I knew there was a chance the beings that had allowed me to shape my new life, and then created or altered this world before I was reborn, might have not cared about how I gained my magic, however, I felt it more likely they’d changed some minor details to ease my existence. At least enough that it didn’t derail whatever enjoyment or reason they had for allowing me this opportunity. If no other Dayne could wield the elements to any degree, then questions about my parentage would form. Honestly, I expected they would anyway, but if I could unlock magic in Edric, even if it wasn’t entirely like mine, then those questions wouldn’t be as prevalent.
There would be those, who feared my powers or what they might represent, who’d seek to destroy me for wielding them, but I’d been aware of that threat for a very long time. The Faith were the largest, and at least so long as I wasn’t on Redwater, the closest of those threats, but they were also one I knew I could handle. Others, from the North and East, were more challenging. Not least as they, in theory, could also use magic; likely in ways I hadn’t considered, or simply would never learn to do. Still, it was something that had shaped my motives for telling those I trusted of my gifts, and ensuring that if they could, they also unlocked their potential. Yes, it made the world a much more dangerous place if the wrong person gained access to magic, but the more mages there were, the more chance we had against the Others.
“Yo…” Edric’s partial word, which died as he licked his lips, and probably gathered his thoughts, drew my focus back to my solar. “You believe that Trystane and I can learn to do what you do?”
“If you mean to command the elements, then yes.” At that, the firebird swooped down, forcing both boys to pull back in fear. Ymir lifted his head, not liking the sudden loss of attention and tiredly growled at the firebird. The firebird turned naturally, my understanding of how the animal would move better than all bar the most learned individuals at the Citadel and elsewhere. “the question,” I continued, the firebird circling back to me, “is if you believe you can, and are willing to endure the training it will take to do so.”
The pair’s gaze shifted to the firebird as it dove toward my palm, seemingly to attack. I raised my hand, and the bird exploded as it struck my hand, engulfing the limb in flame. Gasps filled the room as the flames died away, and my hand showed no damage from the attack. That wasn’t because I was immune to fire, simply because I had control of the flames and ensured that they never touched my skin enough to singe the flesh.
The boys returned their focus to me and eagerly nodded. “Good,” I said, pushing off the desk. “Now, who would like a demonstration of skinchanging?”