GOT : Chapter 47

( Catelyn )

The mood in Renly's camp had turned completely sour with news of Stannis besieging Storm's End. It had seemed that everyone except the Reachers and Stormlanders had seen this coming, yet Renly turned a blind eye to it, dismissing his brother's claim.

Stannis was not a man to let go so easily.

Yet Renly did react swiftly, riding forth with his cavalry while the rest of his infantry followed closely behind, with much of it staying at Bitterbridge. As such, she rode with her northern party along with Renly's cavalry, following the Roseroad, then to Fawnton, through the Kingswood towards Felwood, and finally to the south and Storm's End.

The mood had quickly fallen in Renly's camp, but it had stayed high with her traveling companions. Never in her wildest dreams did she think to ride with a Dornish host towards Storm's End, but neither did she think she would have to accompany her son to war or witness him be crowned king. And if she was honest, the Dornishmen were much better company than expected.

Although it was certainly hard to adjust to their bluntness and sometimes extreme straightforwardness, they weren't what she had been told about them, and never acted with a complete lack of respect or dignity towards her or her party.

She was surprised to discover that the Dornish did abide by the faith, when she had thought that they had forsaken it for the Rhoynish gods or Lyseni gods of love, and had written as much to Bran and Rickon in her last letter.

"Only a sizeable minority of the Dornish people still follow the Rhoynish gods." Ser Gulian Qorgyle had told her. "The Orphans of the Greenblood, namely. But while the Rhoynar brought their customs and pride with them, the Andals kept their gods, and slowly, the Rhoynar converted to the faith. 

Although the Dornish faith is much different from yours, my lady, for its laws were interpreted and changed in order to fit the traditions of the Rhoynar."

"Sunspear's sept is one of the largest in the kingdoms, and hundreds come to worship there." A knight from house Cassien, one of the small lower nobility houses along the Greenblood, told her. 

"It is true that the traditions dictated by the faith in the other kingdoms vary from ours, but it does not affect our belief in the seven heavens and the seven hells. 

Nearly all dornishmen swear by the seven-pointed-star, marriages are celebrated by a septon of the faith, and Sunspear's septon has a place at Sunspear's grand court along the nobility and a representative of the smallfolk or the Orphans."

"A large part of why Dorne decided to stand against the invaders despite the devastation the dragons inflicted during the conquest was, in part, indirectly due to the faith." Ser Cletus Yronwood had told her as well. 

"When Aegon Targaryen came to Dorne for the second time, after the Widow-lover's stupid stunt with Orys and his host, he burnt down Yronwood. 

Many of the smallfolk sought refuge in Yronwood's sept, which at the time was located in the upper parts of the city, nowhere near any troops. With Aegon crowned by the faith, they had thought that he would spare the sept. 

Unfortunately, the dragon had no concern with the faith, and Yronwood's sept was burned along with the hundreds of men, women and children in it. 

After that, every single able-bodied person in Yronwood's lands promised to fight to the death against the Targaryens, lest the dragons rule over a pile of corpses."

And indeed, many knights of the Dornish party held faith-like trinkets and held evening prayers where they would ask for the well-being of their families in Dorne. She would sometimes join them, but did still feel as an outsider, as the prayers were short, never lasting long.

There were still many things that she could not understand or fully adapt to, though. The women in their camp for one. Catelyn knew that women of certain professions would often follow army hosts, but the Dornish had several warrior women in their party. Although, there too, she was surprised to see that the tales were not true. Not all Dornishwomen fought. She only counted twenty in the two-hundred strong host.

That was something she would have to ask about, as well, with the Dornish welcoming her and those of her party who wished to join to their supper, just like tonight.

She found a few dornishmen around a large fire, and, seeing her, beckoned her to come and sit down with them. It seemed like the prince was in discussion with his squire, Lord Dayne.

"Do I have to marry one of them?" the Dayne boy asked his audience, seemingly afraid.

It didn't take long for her to know what they were talking about. The young Dayne had been found abed with two of Lord Rowan's daughters, in quite an obscene position too, if the rumors of the Reachers were to be believed. The Dornish didn't deny it, and of course played it off as Lord Rowan overreacting.

"Not unless you want to." The prince shrugged. "Do you want to?"

"I don't think so." The Dayne boy shuddered. "I'm too young to marry."

"Shame." The prince chuckled. "An alliance with the Rowans would have been beneficial and…"

"Quentyn!" Ser Gulian Qorgyle hissed while the other laughed. "You're scaring the lad."

"Sorry." Was the prince's answer, but his sly smile made it clear that he wasn't sincere.

It was during these few days that she got increasingly confused the man in front of her, the heir to Dorne. She had heard tales, one more unbelievable than the other, which made him seem like a boy who didn't truly exist.

Yet the scarred man was standing there, in front of her, listening to one of the big Yronwood's knight's stories. He was certainly shorter than she imagined, and had some intriguing features. His close relationship with his bastard cousin aside, he was always polite and respectful to her or anyone in her party, and had apparently ordered everyone in the Dornish host to treat them with the utmost respect.

He was smart and well-versed in the history of Westeros too, knowing houses of the North even she didn't know in such detail despite living there for five-and-ten years, and he kept a book of drawing he had made about their travels which he was keen to show her.

"How else can I remember the ruins of Summerhall, the walls of Stonehelm or the birds flying above us on the Roseroad? He had mused. The young prince had a thing for wild animals, and many had told him that he had paid a hefty sum for specimens reaching from as far away as Sothoryos.

She hadn't had a chance to see his skill at arms, but the whispers she had gathered pointed to the prince having slain at least another knight already. Perhaps, that is where he got the scar that cracked along his face? It certainly made him look menacing.

There was something more to him, though. A dark side to the "little prince" as the Dornishmen called him. The scar that rippled across his face was a testament to that, but the prince had a few other scars on his face, neck and arms. Bruises for the most part, but also slight cuts, deeper scars and even bite marks. She very much knew where these were coming from. 

Lucas Blackwood had accidentally stumbled into their tent and caught them in the act. It turns out that instead of being incensed, the prince asked him if he wanted to join them. Added to that, every night during their trip through the Kingswood, the prince would disappear with a few knights into the darkness, and right out of her sight, would apparently talk with men coming and going out of the darkness. 

His maester was just was mysterious, an old man with a mischievous eye, who didn't answer to the name of maester, and was apparently kicked from the Citadel for having dealt with magic. And finally, there was his little frog that he kept around as much as he could. 

A good luck token from the Rhoynar, his companions had told her, but she felt uneasy every time that she looked into its eyes. It was as if the animal was observing her, judging her.

Yet the man sitting in front of her, near the fire, although not joyful, had set aside this dark aura for tonight.

"Tea, my lady?" the prince asked.

"If you please, my prince, with thanks."

"Lemon or mint?"

"Lemon, if you will."

This was another advantage of staying with the Dornishmen. The food that they'd brought was much better than the daily rations of oats, bread, and the odd game that they'd find in the woods.

They had brought dornish tea, which had different flavors from Dorne: Lemons from Lemonwood, Mint from Bloodgrove and Strawberries from Ghost Hill. In addition, they had things called "Sand Witches", which consisted of meat and cheese slapped between two pieces of bread.

"Easier to carry, easier to eat, even while on horseback." A Dornish knight had told her.

Added to that, the dried fruit, of which you could only eat a couple lest you empty your guts on the side of the road, rice from Yi-Ti, although this one was apparently grown in Dorne, honey, spices, milk, cereal, potatoes and nuts. 

It was quite a change from the diet they'd endured for the past few weeks, riding from Riverrun and avoiding the Lannister forces along the Goldroad.

Catelyn relaxed as she brought the small cup to her mouth, her body allowing itself to enjoy the warmth and taste for a brief moment. It was then that she finally brought herself to ask the question that had been hanging on her lips for the past few days.

"Tell me, my prince." She cleared her throat. "Dorne is renowned for their warrior women, is it not? Yet since I have been here, I have only seen ten or twenty, why is that?"

The prince made to speak, but it was the Viper's daughter that beat him to it.

"While it is true that Rhoynish law dictates that women, if born before men, will inherit, and that women in Dorne are treated much better in Dorne than in the kingdoms north of the Marches, Dornish warrior women are a rarity, my lady." The bastard said with a sly smile. 

"Dornishwomen will know how to defend themselves, that you can be sure of. I do not know of a woman in Dorne who does not know how to use a dagger or know of poisons, but few and far between are those like I and my elder sister who choose to wield arms. 

Only the bravest do, for they know what their fate will be if they are captured, and as such always carry poison on their person."

Catelyn felt slightly light-headed at that. She knew what men were capable of doing in war, and there was sense to what the prince's cousin was saying.

"The myth of dornish warrior women was likely propagated by the Reachers, to show how cruel the men were, to let their women fight." Ser Gulian added. "Dorne, as with every insult they have been thrown, turned it from an insult to something to be proud about."

"Dornishwomen, although they do not fight, do have critical roles in the Dornish host." The bastard added. "Women are usually the ones to train and breed the famed Dornish sand steeds, like the ones we have here. It is also they who take charge of much of the logistics, and finances of such an endeavor. 

Lady Alyse Ladybright, for example, is one of my father's most trusted friends, and serves as lady treasurer to Sunspear. It is not uncommon in Dorne for women to hold such practices, but it is indeed very much less common to see them fight. Only one woman in twenty will choose to bear arms, if that."

"I thank you for your…in-depth explanation, my lady."

"The pleasure is all mine, but…" the dornish bastard trailed off. "…don't you have warrior women in the North too? Quent told me of House Mormont and their shieldmaidens."

"True." It was Wendel Manderly that spoke up, his mouth half-filled with a dried apricot. "The Mormont women are usually the ones doing the fighting. The men would go out at sea and fish, or go inland to get timber. 

The women though, they would have to stay in their homes, but their homes were usually the target of ironborn or wildling raids. And so, they took up arms, and to this day, every man or woman in house Mormont knows how to wield a weapon, for their lives depend on it."

"It sounds as these Mormont women would make fine dornish spears." The dornish bastard smirked at her princely cousin.

"I doubt they are half as beautiful as ours." The prince smiled at her, earning him a little punch in the shoulder.

"Tell me, my prince." Catelyn coughed. "I have told you of my home, be it the North or the Riverlands. I told you of our customs, our traditions our pride and our tales, and you have done the same, but I have yet to hear a Dornish tale. I cannot imagine that they are the same as ours, and we have not gotten word of any tales when I was a young girl, in Riverrun."

"That is an odd request, my lady." The prince's eye twitched. "I fear Dornish tales are quite the same as yours. They talk about beautiful maidens and young knights, of glory, of battles and of deception. That, or the tales go on and on, and seem to never end."

"Still, my prince, it is not every day you get to hear a Dornish tale." She insisted.

The prince thought for a few moments, and turned to his companions asking for advice. There was mumbling, but in the end, his lover ended up speaking up:

"What about the story of the false prince?"

"The prince and the tailor?" he asked.

Ser Gulian nodded.

"Very well, then." The prince nodded. "There once was a tailor from Lemonwood whose name was Olyvar. Olyvar was dissatisfied with his work of being a tailor, and dreamt of more than just that. 

One day, he received an order from the Princess of Dorne to make a set of princely garbs for the heir to Dorne who was due to come back from fosterage. Olyvar made the sets, but kept the most expensive one for himself, and left Lemonwood.

He knows not where he will end up, but he ends up crossing the Greenblood, visiting Planky Town and roaming up the river towards Godsgrace. While at Godsgrace, he meets a young man by the name of Qoren. Qoren is on his way to see his mother in Sunspear, and the two quickly become friends.

Olyvar follows Qoren back to the Planky Town, and while on their way there, Qoren reveals that he is the heir to Dorne, having been fostered since he was two namedays old in Skyreach. And as they talk, Olyvar becomes disenchanted with who he thought was his friend. 

He sees too much first man blood in him, and does not see the true blood of the Rhoynar. He thinks Qoren to be weak, incapable and unworthy, and decides to take the prince's seat for himself, for he shares Qoren's dark hair and skin tone.