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Robb Returns by The Dark Scribbler

Books » A song of Ice and Fire Rated: K+, English, Fantasy & Adventure, Eddard S./Ned, Robb S., Theon G., Domeric B., Words: 627k+, Favs: 6k+, Follows: 6k+, Published: Jul 16, 2015 Updated: Sep 287,742Chapter 27

Back again from Monte Carlo and Jesus Christ am I tired. So - here's the next bit.

Oberyn

The Water Gardens were still as lovely as they had ever been, he thought as he strolled down the little path. There were flowering herb bushes to each side of him and as he passed down the path he could hear the contented buzzing from the bees as they harvested the pollen around them.

As he walked he thought, and as he thought he did his best not to frown too much. Life was always a series of challenges and tests. Although the past few days had been… confusing. He had always had an ear for gossip and news and other things. But recently… it had been odd – even by his definition of the word.

He found his brother sitting quietly in his wheeled chair overlooking the most beautiful part of the Water Gardens. "My Prince," he said formally, before nodding at him. "How are you today, brother?"

Doran smiled slightly. "Tolerable," he said quietly, which was as good as he ever admitted. "And you Oberyn?"

He sat on a nearby bench and clasped his hands for a moment as he thought through everything in his head.

"Brother," Doran broke in, "You are troubled. I can see it. What is wrong?"

Oberyn winced a little. "Nothing I can put my finger on, brother. Just… oddness. There have been a few ravens with peculiar messages. Activity in the Citadel at Oldtown. Robert Baratheon vanishing from King's Landing. And…" He sighed a little. "Apparently the Company of the Rose is acting oddly in Braavos."

"The sellsword company?" Doran asked with a frown. "Oddly how?"

He leant back on the bench and scowled slightly. "Apparently they turned down a major contract to fight some lunatic bandits that were bothering some Braavosi merchants. And apparently they have been negotiating with shipping factors about a trip Westwards. I have not heard where too exactly yet. But I am… concerned."

Doran looked at him. "Odd activity amongst sellswords. Does this threaten our… enterprise?"

He thought about it for a long moment. "It… might. Sellswords will be needed at some point. And I like sellswords to be predictable. When they are not... well, I will find out more."

Doran nodded slowly as he looked out at the sea in the distance. "And this news of Baratheon vanishing?"

"Is also odd. He went to Storm's End. There is no word yet on why."

Another nod. A moment of silence fell as they both stared into the distance. And then Oberyn looked to one side as he heard the thump of boots. Areo Hotah was striding towards them, a slight frown on his face. He stopped not too far away and bowed formally. "My Prince," he said quietly to Doran. "Prince Oberyn. I crave your pardon, but an unannounced visitor asks for an urgent meeting."

He saw his brother sigh tiredly. He did not like people to see him in his wheelchair. The Prince of Dorne wanted to be in his palace in Sunspear, not being an invalid in the Water Gardens. "Who is it, Hotah?"

The big man coughed slightly. "Lord Alster Dayne, my Prince."

Oberyn exchanged a startled look with his brother. "I thought that he was supposed to be dying at Starfall?"

"It would seem that he has roused himself from his deathbed brother," Doran said, looking fascinated. "He would not have come unless it was for a very good reason. Very well, Hotah, let him through."

The Captain of the Guard bowed and then swept away, before returning with a smaller man dressed in riding garb that looked as if it had taken a lot of usage recently. He bowed to them both and then swayed slightly.

"Lord Dayne, be seated," Doran said, leaning forwards slightly in concern. Oberyn cast an eye over the man. He did not look well, with a face that was drawn and pale from more than just travel. His eyes seemed a little sunken and there was a look to him that told of weariness beyond words.

"Thank you my Prince," Lord Dayne said hoarsely and Oberyn reached to one side and poured a cup of wine for the man from the table to one side. "And thank you, Prince Oberyn." he muttered and drank without hesitation. Oberyn smirked slightly inside. Normally he would say that it was a brave man who took anything to eat or drink from the Red Viper of Dorne. In this case caution was not needed.

Once the Lord of Starfall had finished drinking he lowered the cup and smiled. "My apologies for me attire. I have been travelling in a hurry and will leave for Sunstone as soon as possible. But I had to see you first."

"For what reason?" Doran asked the question with a slight frown on his face.

Lord Dayne's face worked for a moment and then he sighed. "I am called North my Prince. It is hard to explain."

Doran's frown intensified. "You are called North? Where? Have you been summoned to King's Landing?"

"No," Dayne sighed. "I am not. I am called further North than that but… it is very hard to explain my Prince. It is… something that the Stony Dornish understand and are dealing with, without I think understand it, because they do not remember, and…." He swayed slightly and Oberyn watched him in concern.

But then Lord Alster Dayne collected himself, took a deep breath and then looked up – and Oberyn saw something in those violet eyes that made him blink. There was an iron determination there, and a need to be somewhere else.

"Your pardon, my Prince, I have not been well of late. But then… my Prince, House Dayne is one of the oldest families in Dorne. We are of the First Men, their blood sings within us. And echoes of… older times. One such echo has awoken. As the head of House Dayne I am called to the North. To Winterfell."

To Oberyn this was pure gibberish and he looked at the other man in some concern. "Lord Dayne," he said, with a sideways glance at his frowning brother, "Have you seen a Maester of late?"

Dayne smiled mirthlessly. "I am quite sane Prince Oberyn. It is just that… you are familiar with the ancestral sword of my house, Dawn?"

He thought back to the last time he had seen the sword, borne in the hands of Arthur Dayne, the last Sword of the Morning that House Dayne had produced. Dead now these many years, killed by Ned Stark. He had always admired that sword. It had a sheen that was unlike anything he had ever seen. "I remember it," he said. "What of it?"

"It is… restless." Dayne said the last word with a strange intensity. "It pulls me North. And I must go. I am not a well man. This might be my last trip. But North I must go. I will send word to King's Landing, where my…" He paused for a moment to drink some more wine. "My son Edric is, telling him to join me at Winterfell."

There was a long moment of silence. Then Oberyn looked at his brother, before turning back to Dayne. "Lord Dayne," he said delicately, "Swords are not usually described as being restless."

The Stony Dornishman nodded. "I know Prince Oberyn. As I said, it is hard to understand. Perhaps if you observed it – I left it with your captain. If he could bring it forwards?"

This was something else that made Oberyn blink. "I thought that Dawn was to remain at Starfall, until another Sword of the Morning was selected?"

"This is too urgent. It cannot wait for that." Dayne said the words grimly. "It travels North with me. Its pull takes me North."

Oberyn looked over at his brother and was about to ask him to send this dying lunatic man away when he saw a look on Doran's face that made him pause. "What, brother?"

"Something our father once told us, and which I will tell you later," Doran muttered, before raising his voice. "Very well. Hotah!"

"My Prince?"

"Bring Dawn to us."

The big man nodded and then walked off to one side. When he returned into view he looked… troubled. He was also carrying a great sword in a sheath bound with red leather. Oberyn nodded slightly as he looked at the hilt and the odd sheen. Yes, that was Dawn.

Hotah approached and then knelt before them. He seemed to be sweating a little. "Dawn, my prince," he said hoarsely.

"Prince Oberyn," Lord Dayne said quietly, "Please touch the hilt."

Oberyn almost rolled his eyes at this, but he was still wondering why Hotah looked as if he had seen a ghost and he squinted carefully at the hilt (nothing looked suspicious there) before touching it with a languid hand. And then he leapt to his feet with a stifled oath. "By the Seven! It's quivering!"

"Yes, Prince Oberyn," Hotah said in a voice that said that he wanted to drop the damn thing and then have no more of it. "It is."

Doran rubbed his chin for a moment and then reached out a single finger, which he placed on the hilt. When he lifted it again he was pale. "Indeed it does." He looked back at Dayne. "Do you know what calls you North?"

Dayne looked at him. "I do," he said in a grim voice. "I do not think that I will ever return, save to the crypt at Starfall. And even now I do not think that you would ever believe me when I say what is there. But there are dark things in the North. Things that… the South must be protected from. And so I go. Back to my kin in the North."

The Lord of Starfall stood slowly and then looked about the Water Gardens. "A very beautiful place in the Sun," he smiled. And then the smile faded. "Farewell my Prince." He gently took the sword out of the hands of Hotah, who sighed in relief, and then Lord Dayne walked away tiredly.

"Brother," Doran said slowly, "Can you please send a raven to the Citadel?"

"To ask if the glass candles can be lit? I will send that raven at once." And then Oberyn ran.

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