Left hand

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Grandmother. I dissected the faceless man's mind, I know the traditions and rules of his guild as well as if I had spent half a lifetime training as one of them."

Doran spent the whole morning interrogating the faceless assassin, rather than interrogating, he used the Mental Arts to dissect his mind and learn all the secrets of the hidden guild of assassins. There are rumors that if a faceless assassin fails then ten more will be sent to fulfill the contract, the Martells were worried and wanted to know the truth of those rumors so Doran found out the truth directly from the mind of the assassin who killed his uncle.

The assassin's mind was the strangest one the prince had ever seen.

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

"Doran..."

"I'm fine father," Faced with his father's doubtful look, the prince admitted: "I'm not completely healed, I admit that. My wound is still half open, but the poison has been neutralized and in just a few days the wound will be completely healed. My magic has recovered enough for this. You know it's the only way to get the truth out of that man, torture will get us nowhere."

"I know, son." The prince sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "But I can't help but worry, half a day ago you were at death's door and now you are going to face an assassin, one of the most dangerous in the Known World."

"Face is a bit of a strong word, father." Doran tries to joke to lighten the mood. "He is chained."

Trystanne smiles weakly, but his eyes still sparkle with concern.

"I'm the only one who can do this, father. If there was any other way my grandparents wouldn't let me near that man."

Before the Morning Sword can respond, a guard opens the door and two more drag a chained man into the room. Four other armed guards follow close behind, each eyeing the prisoner with hostility.

Manfrey Martell was the Castellan of Sunspear, he was in charge of the defense of both the home of House Martell and Shadow City. All the guards in both places were trained by him, Manfrey was their leader and mentor, and this assassin killed him. It is not necessary to explain the origin of the hostility that all the guards feel towards the assassin.

The guards chain the assassin to a wall and take up various positions within the room.

"Everyone but my father leave." Doran orders them.

"My prince! This creature is dangerous!" Protests one of the guards.

"It's true! These damn creatures are slippery and have all kinds of tricks!" Says another guard.

"We can't let him hurt you!"

"Must I remind you who I am?" Trystanne crosses his arms and glares at the guards.

They shift uncomfortably and look at each other nervously.

"I was the one who caught this man," Trystanne points to the prisoner chained to a wall.

"I am more than capable of protecting my son from a chained man. Or are you saying otherwise?" The prince's golden eyes practically dares them to protest, they don't dare and leave the room.

"Thank you," Doran walks over to the still unconscious prisoner. "Rennervate!"

The assassin opens his eyes and looks around somewhat dazed, when his eyes meet Doran's he freezes.

"I-impossible." He stutters as he looks the prince up and down with wide eyes. "The gift is- it can't be!"

"Now that's a surprise, when we caught this fucker he didn't say a thing. He seemed mute, and now that he sees you-" Trystanne points at the shocked assassin.

"I think I know why, the poison they used." Doran explains. "What poison was that?" He questions the assassin, but the assassin recovered from his shock and fell silent, every expression disappear from his face. "He won't tell us anything, father this will take a while so don't be scared."

"Hm." The Morning Sword nods.

"Okay, let's start." Doran pulls up a chair and places it in front of the assassin, sits down and looks at him straight in the eye. "Legilimency!"

When one uses the mental arts on someone the first thing one sees are the superficial thoughts of a person, those thoughts can be images, vague memories or lines of thought. Whatever is most prominent at that moment is what the Legilimens will see.

In the event that a person is adept at Occlumency what the Legilimens will see is a blank canvas, and if that person is a master in Mental Defense he can fool the attacker with false images and emotions.

In the case of the assassin, when Doran entered his mind what he found was a blank canvas.

`This is... strange.` Unlike the basic mind shield that the Occlumens use, the assassin's mind truly feels like a blank canvas. The basic shield is like a curtain that hides the true mind of the Occlumens, but this feels like... as a genuine blank canvas.

Doran is taken aback, for this- no human mind is a blank canvas!

From the moment a human is born, everything from sounds to smells leaves little brushstrokes of color on the canvas that is every human's life. All those little details: the taste of that food that you loved so much as a child, that nervousness and fear when you were scolded for the first time, the disappointment when you wake up from a wonderful dream, all of these are essential parts of one's being. You can hide them, but you can't delete them, not without deleting "you".

The assassin's mind is logically impossible, it is an impossibility itself!

`Faceless, don't tell me-! Of course! They are not actors playing a role, they are naked mannequins in every sense of the word: emotions, memories, personality,... This is fascinating, and terrifying at the same time!`

The faceless men are trained to erase their identities and become a blank canvas, a canvas that is capable of being filled with any pattern or design at will. They are truly terrifying.

`So that's not a mental shield in the conventional sense of the word, it's a passive defensive ability produced by the training of these assassins.` Doran remembers a certain blank book that could absorb ink and an idea occurs to him.

`This man has no current identity, that means I could technically force an identity onto him. An identity that is absolutely loyal to me and will answer all my questions.`

`Sorry old friend, I must use the memories I have of you for this.`

***(End Flashback)***

"So we won't have to worry about more faceless men coming, that's good." The princess breathes in relief. "One less problem to worry about, there are still a hundred to deal with. We are indeed living in very troubled times."

"You know how the saying is: May you live in interesting times."

"Doran," the princess chuckles. "That's not a saying, it's a curse."

"Eh? Well it's not that surprising, it always seemed like an ominous phrase to me." The prince shrugged. "How are the funeral arrangements going?"

The atmosphere in the room loses all lightness and a dark shadow looms over them.

The princess's eyes become heavier and her posture straightens a bit.

"The silent sisters are preparing the corpse." She takes a sip of wine. "Septon Quentyn is preparing the Sept and the ceremony, Saera is taking care of the other details personally."

"Is it wise? Aunt Saera just lost her husband, the father of her children, shouldn't she rest and mourn Uncle Manfrey in peace?" Doran's eyes shine with sadness and lament.

"I agree with you, my sweet child, I offered to take care of everything but her… I think Saera needs this to take her mind off her pain, or maybe she sees it as a wife's duty. Poor woman…"

Doran hesitates for a moment before asking the following:

"And... and their children?"

The princess shakes her head and looks out the window.

"Trevor, he has been hitting a training dummy ever since. Jacaerys is with him. As for the younger ones: Teora has locked herself in her room and doesn't let anyone in, and little Maron... Jocelyn is with him, and honestly I don't think the little one understands that his father will never come back."

Doran closes his eyes and clenches his fists, enraged with the world and especially with their enemies. Three children left fatherless, the oldest 14 years old and the youngest just 6.

"I know I'm going to sound like a soulless monster but I have to state the obvious: Jacaerys is not in the correct state of mind to lead House Martell's spy network."

"Grandmother, you don't mean that-"

"I won't take his position, but someone else must take over while he mourns his son." The princess looks at her grandson seriously, and almost coldly. "We are in a difficult situation, grandson, our enemies are dangerous and they will not give us time to grieve and recover. We cannot allow ourselves to doubt, not now, you have seen firsthand what happens when you hesitate."

Doran remembers with a grimace his near-death at the hands of the assassin disguised as Nysterica Yronwood.

"Who? The most suitable is Uncle Andrey, but he is in the Summer Islands with mother, and even if he were here he would be just as disheartened as uncle Jacaerys. The next person I can think of is my mother, but again she is in the Summer Islands. Grandfather's health is not good enough to be able to travel as much as is required of the Master of the Spy Network and-"

Dorna Nymeros Martell looks at her grandson with an illegible expression, her eyes shining knowingly and with something the prince can't quite understand.

The prince closes his mouth with an audible sound and swallows, he feels a great weight on his shoulders and hesitates before speaking. His grandmother speaks before he could open his mouth.

"Doran, you have been asking me for a more active position in the government of Dorne for some time."

"I-"

"I know what you will say: that you are still young, that you lack experience and skill, that you are not ready. You are wrong, Doran, you have shown great skill in moving in the shadows. Your mission in Braavos is a perfect example, let's not forget you created quite an impressive information network on your own. Most importantly: you are a Martell, a blood prince of Dorne. These troubled times call for unique measures. As one of my heirs it is time you take your place by my side, it is time for you to be one of the people who leads and forges the future of our kingdom."

The princess gets up from her chair and walks around her desk, placing both hands on her grandson's shoulders and looking at him with her golden eyes shining like two miniature suns. That glow is distant and ominous but also scorching.

"Don't be confused, my child, I have been planning this since the moment you created that first game of yours. The only thing that these circumstances changed is the timing. When I became Princess of Dorne I was twenty years old, I was smarter and more cunning than most, but in some ways I was still a child, I still dreamed. My dreams didn't include knights in shining armor, nor songs or flowers, they included vast seas and distant lands. I dreamed of being Nymeria reborn, of being a better sailor than the Sea Snake and discovering distant lands, of traveling to the most distant corners of the map and beyond.

My father died before I could chase any of those beautiful dreams, the day of the funeral my grandmother told me: Dorna, my dearest child, is time you leave your dreams be dreams. It is time you stop walking on clouds, and walk on solid ground. Dorne needs you, its calling for you, my sweet child, you must answer its call."

She caresses his cheek gently.

"Now is your turn to answer its call, my sweet child."

His grandmother's gaze feels heavy, it feels as if it is not one person looking at him but millions. That is the gaze of the person who carries a whole kingdom on her shoulders, that gaze is his future.

A future that Doran already accepted as his before the memory of his first love, now is time to show his determination to grandmother.

He squares his shoulders and stares back at her without flanking before those intimidating golden eyes.

"I won't fail you, my princess." This time he isn't talking to his grandmother, but the ruler of Dorne. This is the first time Doran had the true eyes of the Princess of Dorne directed towards him, her attention is on him and he will not hesitate. He will not fail.

"Good." The pressure in the room eases and the princess's eyes lighten. "Now-"

The two spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the duties that Doran has to assume, his tasks and responsibilities.

***

"So you will replace Prince Jacaerys?"

Doran and Lothar are in Doran's workshop in the Tower of the Sun, the prince is sitting at his desk drawing some plans while his sworn knight is leaning against a wall looking out the window towards the port.

"No, uncle Jace will still be the Master of the Spy Network." Doran waves his hand and part of the drawing on the paper disappears. He begins to redraw that part as he explains his new position within House Martell. "I took the position left by my grandfather. Originally my grandfather was my grandmother's left hand, due to his state of health he could no longer fulfill the responsibilities and duties of that position and since my grandmother did not replace him with anyone, that position was left empty for nearly a decade."

"Her left hand ? A right hand is the closest ally and supporter of someone, but I don't understand what a left hand might be."

"Similar to that, the difference is- How should I put it? The right hand lives and moves in broad daylight, while the left hand in the darkness of night."

"Ah! So basically you'll be doing all her dirty work."

Doran chuckles and nods.

`The King of Monsters, that is what I shall become. This is a good position for such a being.`

"You will not protest? The Lothar I know frowned at such a position, even more so if his beloved prince is the one to occupy it." Doran teases him.

"Old Lothar would, but I am no longer that man."

"Oh? Don't tell me you are a faceless man in disguise?"

"Don't joke about that, my prince." Lothar chides him. "The events of the last year have opened my eyes, I realized that more than a righteous knight and protector you need a- well, as you said a left hand."

Doran looks at him in surprise for a moment, that expression melting into one of affection and he smiles at his friend and protector.

"T- this is just my duty!" Lothar's cheeks flush slightly and he looks away from the prince. "I promised your parents I will always be by your side and protect you, and I've learned that I can't do it properly from the light."

"I am very glad to have you by my side, my dearest friend."

***

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

Our boys are growing up! Both Doran and Lothar have learned valuable lessons and are embarking on a new phase of their lives.

BTW Obella is Dorna`s right hand.