A goodbye is never easy

On the day of Manfrey Martell's funeral Doran woke up with a headache and his body was sore and numb, he looked at the ceiling with heavy eyes and sighed as he sat up in bed.

"These days have been so damn busy..."

Since his grandmother gave him that position, he has been working day and night. His grandparents have taught him everything he needs to know in order to fulfill his duties and responsibilities, which are many. He too has been working on various projects in preparation for the war, one of them was rather...explosive.

***(Flashback, a few days ago)***

Doran has spent almost 14 hours in his workshop in Progress Town, in the basement of his manor, this workshop was designed specifically for him and is his favorite place to invent things.

It has a section with several tables to design inventions, a small library with reference books, a large open space to build models of his greatest inventions, a forge,...

The prince is working on one of his inventions, one that will revolutionize maritime combat. Doran is currently molding a cylindrical object with his magic, the object has an irregular thickness, being wider at one end and much narrower at the other.

Doran is dressed only in his pants and boots. His bare chest is covered in a thick layer of sweat and his scars are very noticeable. The wound on his abdomen has already healed but the skin is still somewhat tender and he still feels discomfort and slight pain from overexertion.

"Almost." He grunts as he shapes the metal, after another twenty minutes the metal is perfectly shaped. "Okay, now it's time to put on the lenses." He wipes his sweat with a towel and picks up several round pieces of glass from a table full of similar pieces, which he carefully attaches to the cylindrical piece of metal.

If one looked closely, one would see that each round piece of crystal has various runes etched on the edges.

"I hope this prototype fits better than the last two..." Doran prays to the gods that this prototype works and that he doesn't have to build another one from scratch.

He walks to another room, this is a large empty room the size of a football field. On one side of the room are various contraptions lined up in a row, some looking like large cylinders on top of a cart, others looking a lot like huge crossbows.

Doran stops in front of one of the cylinder-shaped contraptions and attaches the prototype on top, with a bit of magic he welds them together and after checking his work he takes two steps back.

"I am in your hands, Lady Fortune. Or maybe I should pray to the Smith and Warrior?" The prince takes a steel ball the size of a basketball and places it inside the contraption. Whereupon he gets behind the contraption and moves it around a bit, looks through the lens of the prototype he's just soldered, and takes aim in the distance, at a huge bull's-eye that's painted on the wall on the other side of the room.

"Good," Doran grabs two earplugs and puts them in his ears, whereupon he pulls on a rope and a huge explosion shakes the ground slightly. "Without the plugs my eardrums would have burst... And if I hadn't reinforced my entire workshop with various runes and charms my manor would be long gone." He chuckles and looks at the target. The slight laughter turns into a full belly laughter.

"Hell yeah! Prototype CS-023 is a success!"

***(End Flashback)***

"The funeral will start in a few hours..." The joy at the memory of the success of his prototype vanishes into thin air. All the distractions came in handy to deal with his grief, but in a way that was just running and hiding, and now he must face the grimm reality head on.

His uncle is dead.

The pain feels like a snake coiling around his heart and squeezing slowly but steadily.

The prince dresses in black robes and ties his hair into a high bun. Since the last time he had a haircut his hair had grown to shoulder length, he thought about cutting it but his mother protested saying something about Westerosi fashion. In Westeros, men having long hair seems to be in style, and apparently his mother really likes his look with his hair longer. Doran doesn't really care much about fashion but he has to admit that he likes how it looks on him.

Breakfast was a quiet and somber affair, not even the babies could lighten the mood. In fact, Elia and Oberyn somewhat added salt to the wound left by Manfrey's death in the hearts of his loved ones. While Olyvvar is old enough to understand the concept of death well enough to know that Manfrey is gone, the babies... Elia is barely two years old and Oberyn is one, neither of them understand what is going on around them.

Every time Elia asks someone with her adorable little voice:

"Why sad? Smile!" She even gave them a brilliant smile that could melt the heart of the toughest of men, any other day and everyone would be cooing and coddling her but today... Today they can only force a weak smile, smiles that even babies notice are false.

Oberyn was the first to be affected by the somber atmosphere and burst into tears.

"I'll stay with them," Lothar said. Before anyone could protest he added, "You have to attend, you're family. I'm hardly an acquaintance."

"My siblings know Lothar very well, and are comfortable with him." Doran adds, agreeing with his friends`s proposition.

"Yes, it is better for them to spend the day in the company of someone who is not in mourning." Trystanne's words brought a slight frown in Lothar and his son's face.

Dorna and Arthur look at the Morning Sword with mild annoyance and disbelief.

`How can you be so unconscious? Implying that Lothar doesn't care about Manfrey's death...`

"Alright, Elia and Oberyn will stay with Lothar."

***

"Dear folks of Sunspear, we are here today to bid farewell to an honorable and brave man. Manfrey Nymeros Martell was an exemplary man, someone devoted and just." Says Septon Quentyn.

Several people nod.

The Shadow City Sept is a beautifully decorated building with golden statues of the seven aspects of their god, the huge stained glass windows depicting each aspect in different positions and illuminating the large semicircular hall.

Behind septon Quentyn is a huge circular stained glass window with a seven-pointed star.

Currently the entire sept is decorated with golden and white flowers, the soft and pleasant smell of the flowers wafts through the sept and envelops them with its fragrance. Doran and his family are in the first row, right in front of the coffin. Like the prince, they are all dressed in black and solemnly facing forward.

While the septon continues with his prayers, the prince notices how his cousin Teora begins to tremble.

"He is truly gone..." She whispers softly.

"He is." Doran wraps an arm around her and she begins to sob quietly into his shoulder. "Let it out, Tera, let it all out."

On the other side of Teora is the girl's mother, Lady Saera, hugging the youngest of her children. Jocelyn Martell, Manfrey's mother, is consoling them both. Her husband is next to their oldest grandson, Trevor, who just stares at the ground with clenched fists.

Hours pass and the septon asks if anyone wants to say a few words. The first to speak is the wife of the deceased.

"Firstly, on behalf of my family and myself, I'd like to thank you all for being here, and for all your thoughts, prayers, and kindness. Many of you knew my husband personally, others have only seen him in passing or heard of him due to his position as Castellan of Sunspear. No matter how well you knew Manfrey you've all come to see him off, t-" She takes a shaky breath. Jacaerys starts moving towards her but she shakes her head. "Manfrey, he was a good man, he was kind and just, a rarity this times. He didn't care about titles or bloodlines, he cared about people. When I met him I- I was younger than my second son, barely a child still in the age of playing in the Water Gardens. I remember tripping and throwing a little boy a bit younger than me into the water, then a water fight broke out and by the time the sun went down we were friends. Back then I didn't know he was a Martell and when I found out I almost expected he wouldn't want to be my friend anymore but Manfrey- he just shrugged and kept playing. Our friendship only grew over the years and ten years later he asked me to be his wife-"

Saera spoke for almost an hour, after the first quarter she could no longer hold back the tears and they fell without stopping from her lilac eyes.

Then Manfrey's parents spoke, then his eldest son.

Trevor only said the following:

"My father died doing his duty, it was an honorable death they say but honor- Where is the honor of his assassin? Or of the vile creatures that hired him? All my life I have grown up admiring 'honorable' men and women. I have aspired to be like them but today I can't help but wonder: What is honor? Is it something we demand of ourselves? Is it something we expect from others? Is it a duty? A responsibility? I- I don't know, I- I only know that my father was murdered. That one of the houses a moon ago was believed to be just and `honorable` did it, that they have been planning treacherous acts longer than I have been alive. This world is neither honorable nor fair, but my father was and I- I am not going to be a man as great as he was but I will avenge him. My blade will bathe in the blood of the enemies that lurk in the shadows, that I swear before gods and men."

Trevor Martell's words were a promise and an oath, the young teenager has decided which path he will take and it is one of blood and tears.

When it was Doran's turn, he only said a few words:

"Sometimes, the distance between what we think and what we want to say is unbridgeable. And no matter how much we arrange and rearrange the words they just never seem adequate. Five days ago my uncle was murdered. There are no words that can describe the pain we are suffering, or maybe there are but I don't know them. I am not a poet nor a bard, words were never my forte, I can only say that I loved my uncle, that his loss left a wound in our hearts that will take a long time to heal."

The Princess of Dorne was the last person to speak:

"One of the hardest things a person has to do in life is write and give an eulogy on the passing of a loved one. Manfrey was my cousin and dear friend. I have known him since the day he was born and I saw him grow from a fussy baby to a calm and trustworthy man. As family and confidant he has been an important part of my life for thirty years, his loss left a hole in our hearts, a hole that will never be fully filled. All the power or wealth in the world cannot heal a broken heart, I learned that the hard way some time ago. All I can do as Princess of Dorne is promise justice to my dear cousin's wife and children. Tomorrow the last members of House Yronwood will be executed, tomorrow the house that caused Manfrey's death will be extinct and its name damn for seven eternities."

***

The day had dawned fresh and clear, with a cold typical of nights in the desert. The coast and the sea breeze alleviate the great contrast in temperature between day and night typical of the desert, but not enough in Doran's opinion.

The prince watched the morning mist cover the horizon and tint it gray giving it a mysterious and almost mystical air.

The execution of the last two Yronwood will take place at dawn, in just a few moments, on the same beach where he was almost killed by the faceless men. His grandmother chose this place for some kind of symbolism, something like: Here you tried to end the future of my family, here I will end the future of yours.

Olyvvar and the babies aren't considered old enough to witness this historic moment, but Maron Martell, son of the late Manfrey, is barely a year older than Olyvvar and he's here. The six-year-old boy is next to his mother, between her and his grandmother. Maron is clutching his mother's skirt in a fist and peeking out at the prisoners.

Doran followed the line of sight of his young cousin and saw Edgar and Ormond Yronwood, both dressed in rags and visibly battered. Edgar has an unkempt beard that he did not have on the day of the trial, his eyes were empty and the large dark circles under them as well as shadows that surround them only give the impression of defeat. Ormond is not much better, the teenager is missing his right arm that had to be amputated (the faceless assassin broke it to take his place in the duel, later in the cells Ormond struggled against the chains when he heard the screams of his parents and servants, the struggle was so brutal that the elbow bone broke and it pierced the flesh. The wound became infected and to prevent him from dying before the official execution they had to amputate his right arm) and he is at least five kilos thinner.

A week ago Doran was too ashamed to look the teen in the eye, the pity and regret for Ormond`s fate blinding him. Now his black eyes meet Ormond Yronwood's caramel brown eyes without hesitation, those dark-as-night eyes almost indifferent to the fate that awaits his former friend.

Septon Quentyn stepped forward to begin the execution.

"The Gods Above consider few sins as unforgivable, for they are kind and merciful. One of them is kinslaying, killing your kin is a monstrous and vile sin, something not even the compassionate Mother Above can forgive. Edgar Yronwood killed his own daughter to have a faceless assassin, a fiend from the east, steal her face with his ghastly powers to kill our good prince. Not even the innocent and lenient Maiden can let this vile sin go unpunished."

The Septon pauses and lets the audience, thousands of Dornish men and women, digest his words. Many nod, others are vocal with their responses, but all agree with the septon's words. After a minute or two he speaks again:

"I speak on behalf of the Gods Above when I say the following: House Yronwood and all its members are excommunicated, the doors of the promised afterlife are closed to them. They will not hear the sweet songs. They will not see the divine splendor of the Father`s golden halls. They will not laugh and love and feast until the end of days in company of the devout men and women of yesterday."

At the end of the speech the Princess of Dorne took a few steps forward and looked at the crowd with cold but solemn eyes.

"I, Dorna Nymeros Martell, Princess of Dorne and Lady of Sunspear, sentence every man and woman with the name and direct lineage Yronwood to death. Their lands, titles and privileges are revoked, and their lineage damned. By official decree Dorne will not be home to any descendant of this cursed lineage, neither today nor a thousand years from now. Let it be known that any man or woman claiming that name will be immediately sentenced to death, for their crimes and sins will never be forgiven nor forgotten."

Doran didn't look away when the guards led the prisoners to the gallows, nor when they tied the ropes around their necks. He didn't blink as the platforms beneath the prisoners' feet fell and their bodies dangled from the ropes.

Ormond's body was the first to go limp but his father continued to move even after a few minutes.

`There was no snap.` As soon as the platform fell under Ormond's feet there was a soft snap, the sound of his neck breaking, but that was not the case for Edgar. `I see, they made it so that his death will be as slow and painful as possible.`

"This is finally over." His father sighed with relief. "This last moon felt like an eternity."

"Yes, it did." Doran nodded, not taking his eyes off the gallows.

"In another world maybe we could rest after this hell but in this one... I have an army to prepare and you-" Trystanne trails off.

"I have to go to Essos."

***

NOTE: There are advanced chapter in my p@ tre on if you want to support me and read some chapters earlier.

p a t r e o n. com /EdenofKovir

Trystane's comment wasn't meant to be rude or mean.