Chapter 56

Standing on a hillock that overlooked the battlefield, I watched as the Companions attacked the walls of a ruined keep that squatted on the shoreline of the lake like the carcass of a long-dead animal.

Jace and Grey stood with me, both of them silent as they observed the controlled chaos below.

In the twilight of the early morning, the noise of the mock battle was tremendous even from this distance. Wood cracked against wood as practice swords met shields. Boys shouted war cries and challenges and warnings to each other. The older Companions, playing defenders, rained down blunted arrows and threw things from the walls like small pebbles and dirt clods. Anything to simulate the reality of holding a fortification against attackers.

The younger boys, in turn, surged forward with ladders, trying to scale the crumbling walls. I could see them scrambling up, some making it to the top only to be pushed back down by defenders. They'd land in the churned dirt and hay mounds with thuds I could hear from here, groaning but getting back up to try again.

At the ruined gatehouse, barely more than an arch with some hastily rebuilt wooden doors hanging crookedly in place, a team of boys worked a ram. Just a log really, carried between six of them. They swung it forward over and over, each impact making the doors shudder.

Jack would be somewhere down there in the thick of it, supervising the fighting to make sure none of the boys got too badly hurt. Making sure enthusiasm didn't cross the line into actual danger.

Storming castles in open battle wasn't exactly what I had in mind for the Companions as a fighting force. They were meant for raids and ambushes, for hitting fast and disappearing faster. Unconventional warfare, not siege work.

But they were boys still. What boy in Westeros didn't dream of being the first through the breach during a siege? Of scaling the walls like a hero from the songs?

This would be a good memory to cap off almost two months of campaigning around the valley. Two months of ambushing and being ambushed, surviving off the land, marching until their feet bled and then marching some more. Scouting and tracking enemies. Learning to work as small units, to trust each other, to think under pressure.

They deserved a good send-off.

"How much longer?" I asked.

Beside me, Grey squinted toward the lake. The morning sun hadn't quite reached it yet, leaving the water dark and still. "They should be making their way across just about now."

I turned my attention to the backside of the castle which sat close to the lake shore. The shallows and shoreline were covered in tall reeds and rushes, swaying gently in what might have been a breeze. Or might have been something else moving through them.

With the sun just now peeking above the eastern mountains, that side of the ruins still lay wreathed in shadows thick enough that I could barely see what was happening there. Though I imagined the backside was lightly defended, given the frontal attack currently occupying all the defenders' attention.

There was a reason castles kept their surrounding lands clear of trees or any vegetation that might provide cover for attackers. Bare ground for hundreds of yards in every direction made surprise approaches nearly impossible.

But this was just some ruin abandoned centuries, maybe millennia, ago. The defenders hadn't thought to clear the shoreline of its tall reeds and rushes.

Or they hadn't thought the attackers would be able to build boats and barges to cross the lake under cover of darkness.

Suddenly, Grey let out a small whoop as we spotted movement on the backside of the castle. Figures emerging from the reeds, scrambling up the rocky shore, heading for the undefended rear walls.

"There they go!" Grey said, genuine excitement in his voice.

Jace smiled approvingly. "Good lads."

Grey and his chosen boys had worked to design and build the barges that carried the secret attackers across. Nothing fancy, I'd seen them myself. Just rough platforms lashed together from logs, barely seaworthy. But they floated, and that was enough.

Better to have proto-engineers and builders than none at all.

Grey would be leaving with those boys soon, heading to the Citadel before I left for Essos. When they returned, I hoped they'd be able to build proper siege works or anything an army might need on the go. They'd be my engineers and doctors and whatever else I needed, either on or off the battlefield.

We heard the shouts from inside the castle before we could see anything clearly.

Confusion first. Defenders realizing they'd been flanked. Then the sounds of fighting as the boys who'd crossed the lake fell on the rear guard.

With attackers now streaming in from both ends of the ruins, the defenders couldn't hold for long. They tried, I had to give them credit. The older boys fought hard, using their experience and size advantage. But they were outnumbered and caught between two forces.

Within ten minutes, a white flag rose above the highest standing wall. A torn piece of cloth tied to a spear shaft, waving in the morning breeze.

The Companions still on the walls or below let out victorious cheers. The sound echoed across the valley, startling birds from the trees around the lake.

I smiled. With that, the training exercise was officially over, and it was finally time to go home.

xxx

Less than a week later, we marched back into Dawnrest just after sunrise.

I'd wanted to push them one last time, so we did hard marches day after day, covering more ground per day than any infantry force in Westeros I'd ever heard of. Thirty-five miles one day. Forty the next. Brutal pace, especially with full packs and equipment.

Still, the boys kept in good order and in good spirits.

They prattled the whole way back about the campaign. Comparing how they'd done in various engagements. Telling funny stories about mistakes made or near-misses. Bragging about deeds both real and slightly embellished.

They'd gotten tougher in two months than they would have in two years of normal training. I could see it in how they moved, how they carried themselves. The new boys who'd struggled on the first marches now kept pace without complaint. The older boys had become harder, sharper, more confident.

We reached the Companions' manse in the late afternoon. The building looked almost welcoming after two months sleeping rough. Smoke rose from the chimneys where the staff and the younger boys had kept things running in our absence.

"Formation!" Jack's voice rang out across the courtyard.

The boys assembled quickly, falling into neat ranks despite their exhaustion. One hundred and ten Companions, dirty and worn but standing tall.

I walked to the front, looking them over, seeing the changes in them. The way they held themselves now compared to when we'd left.

"Companions!" My voice carried across the courtyard. "Two months ago, we set out to test yourselves. To see what you were made of. To learn whether you could become the force I believe you can be."

Silence. Every eye on me.

"You succeeded beyond my expectations. You learned to march. To fight. To think. To work as units and trust each other with your lives." I paused. "You learned to suffer and keep going. To be cold and wet and hungry and still do your duty. Those are the lessons that matter. The ones that will keep you alive when it counts."

A few boys stood straighter.

"I'm proud of every one of you. From the veterans who showed the new lads how it's done, to the newest recruits who kept pace despite never having done anything like this before. You are Companions. You've earned that name."

I let that sit for a moment.

"Which is why you're getting a week off."

The tension broke. Several boys grinned.

"Sleep. Relax. Eat real food for once instead of whatever you could catch or forage. And then enjoy the tourney Dawnrest will be holding this weekend. You've earned it."

The boys cheered, slapping each other on the back and letting out whoops.

"Dismissed!"

They broke formation with barely controlled enthusiasm, heading for the manse entrance and the promise of real beds and hot meals. I heard laughter, friendly shoving, more stories being told as they disappeared inside.

Jack, Grey, Jace, and Codin approached me.

"Well done, m'lord," Jack said. "They performed better than I hoped."

"Better than I expected too," I admitted. "We should—"

A horse's hooves on cobblestones interrupted me.

I turned to see a rider wearing House Tarth colors entering the courtyard. He was dusty from hard riding, his horse lathered.

He spotted me and rode directly over, dismounting quickly.

"Ser Galladon," he said, bowing slightly. "I've been searching for you. You're summoned back to Evenfall Hall immediately."

My stomach dropped slightly. "What's happened? Is someone hurt?"

"No, ser. Nothing like that." The rider caught his breath. "You have guests waiting for you. Your lady mother said to tell you it's urgent you return as soon as possible."

Guests. Urgent.

That could mean a lot of things, not all of them good.

I looked at my officers. They were watching me, waiting.

"We'll debrief tomorrow," I said. "Get some rest. All of you."

"M'lord," Jack said. "Should we go with you?"

"No. Whatever this is, I'll handle it." I turned to the rider. "Give me ten minutes to ready Smoker and clean up. Then we ride."

xxx

Elia Martell

The ship swayed as it slowly approached Dawnrest's harbor. 

On the prow, Elia had one hand on the rail to steady herself against the gentle swell of the waves. Beside her, Ashara leaned forward, her dark hair whipping in the sea breeze. 

"I didn't expect the town to be so big."

"Nor did I," Elia admitted.

She'd heard reports about Dawnrest's growth, of course. Her brother's spies kept him informed about trading opportunities throughout the Seven Kingdoms. But hearing about it and seeing it were different things entirely.

The port town sprawled along the coastline, its whitewashed buildings climbing up from the harbor in terraced rows. New construction was visible everywhere, scaffolding on half-finished structures, fresh timber contrasting with weathered stone. The harbor itself was crowded with ships of all sizes. Merchant cogs and fishing boats and even a few war galleys, their banners displaying houses from across Westeros and the Free Cities.

It almost rivaled Planky Town in traffic, if not yet in size.

"Quite the bustling place," Oberyn said from her other side. He'd been watching the approach with interest, his dark eyes taking in every detail. "Though I notice there's not much of a welcome party waiting for us."

Ashara hummed thoughtfully. "That is strange. Surely they received word we were coming?"

Oberyn slowly turned to Elia, his expression knowing.

She didn't hide her smile. "It seems my raven never arrived. A shame."

"Elia..." Ashara's voice carried a note of warning.

"Oh, come now. This way is much better, isn't it? We can explore Dawnrest without all the ceremony and formality that comes with being a visiting princess." Elia kept her tone light, innocent. "Much more pleasant for everyone."

Oberyn laughed, the sound rich with amusement. "Who knew my dear sister could be so adventurous? You'll have to tell me what changed you so."

Elia stayed silent, but in her heart, she knew exactly what had changed. Or rather, who. Someone she'd be seeing very soon.

As the ship maneuvered into a berth, sailors calling out to each other and throwing ropes to the dock workers, Elia found herself scanning the crowd gathering on the pier.

Looking for a familiar face. A particular height. One good eye.

"Looking for someone?" Oberyn asked, his voice deceptively casual.

Elia felt heat rise to her cheeks. She stopped her searching immediately. "Not at all."

Perhaps Gerion hadn't arrived yet. His letter had said he'd be here within days of her own expected arrival, but travel was unpredictable. Storms, contrary winds, any number of delays.

She'd see him soon enough.

After hiring porters to carry their trunks and bags, Oberyn led the way out of the docks. Even trying to blend in, they attracted attention. Elia had worn her least extravagant clothes—simple traveling garments in muted colors—and she'd insisted their two guards not wear their House Martell livery. Just plain leather and wool, weapons kept unobtrusive.

But they still stood out. The way Oberyn moved, the unconscious confidence of a prince. The quality of their clothes despite the plain styling. Ashara's remarkable beauty turning heads wherever she went.

People noticed them. Curious glances, whispered speculation.

"The town looks lively," Ashara observed as they walked through the streets. Banners hung from windows, and people were setting up what looked like vendor stalls along the main thoroughfare. "Like they're preparing for a festival."

They found an inn called the Waxing Moon near the town center. It was a substantial building, three stories of good timber and stone, with a painted sign showing a crescent moon in silver against blue.

The innkeeper, a rotund man with a friendly face, greeted them warmly. "Welcome, welcome! Looking for rooms? We've got space still, though it's filling up fast with the tourney coming."

"Tourney?" Elia asked.

"Aye, my lady. Archery competition, seven days from now. Lord Tarth's been promoting it all over the island. Good prizes too, silver for the winners, and a chance to join the lord’s household if you’re skilled enough."

Oberyn looked at Elia with raised eyebrows. "Did you know about this?"

"I did not," she said honestly. 

They took three rooms: one for Elia and Ashara, one for Oberyn, and one for the guards. The innkeeper promised hot baths and a good supper in the common room.

After settling their things, they ventured downstairs.

The common room was crowded and loud in the best way. Locals mixing with travelers, all drinking and eating and talking. Someone had a lute and was playing a lively tune while a few people danced in the cleared space near the hearth.

Elia found herself smiling as she watched. The easy joy of it. The lack of formality.

Oberyn looked amused. "Enjoying yourself, sister?"

"You might have been to many inns," she said, "but this is my first time at an actual one."

"What do you mean? We've stayed at inns before."

"Inns that were cleared out entirely for the Martells to stay in," Elia corrected. "With all the regular patrons sent away and guards at every door. That's not the same thing at all." She gestured around them. "And anywhere else we traveled in Dorne or out of it, we stayed with local lords. I've never just... sat in a common room like this. Like a normal person."

Ashara nodded eagerly. "It's wonderful. Look at them all, they don't care who we are. They're just living their lives."

"You are two peculiar ladies," Oberyn announced to no one in particular. But he was smiling.

They ordered food and ale. The serving girl brought thick stew and fresh bread, and Elia ate with more appetite than she'd had in days. Something about the atmosphere here, the warmth, the noise, the anonymity, made everything taste better.

After a while, they ventured back out into the town.

Dawnrest had much to offer, they discovered. Market stalls selling everything from fresh fish to Essosi spices. A square where craftsmen worked their trades in open workshops. Streets that wound up the hillside, offering views of the harbor and the sea beyond.

They stopped at food stalls, trying everything. Lamb skewers seasoned with herbs Elia didn't recognize but tasted incredible. Fried fish so fresh it must have been caught that morning. Honeyed pastries that melted on the tongue. Sweet wine from the Arbor, served in rough wooden cups.

Elia felt lighter than she had in months. No protocol to follow. No eyes judging her every move. Just walking through a town, eating street food, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. She only wished Gerion was there to experience it with her.

It was getting dark by the time they made their way back toward the inn.

That's when she saw them.

Men in Tarth colors, the quartered sun and crescent moon on their surcoats, waiting near the Waxing Moon's entrance. Four of them, looking official and alert.

Elia tried not to show her disappointment as one of them stepped forward.

"Princess Elia Martell? Prince Oberyn?" The guard bowed respectfully. "Our lady sends her regards and invites you to be guests at Evenfall Hall. She apologizes for the delay in greeting you, as word of your arrival only just reached the castle."

So much for anonymity. The Tarths had eyes and ears in their port town to report unusual visitors, it seemed. She should have expected that.

"Of course," Elia said graciously. "We would be honored."

They collected their things from the inn, the innkeeper bowing and refusing payment when he learned they were nobility, and were escorted to horses waiting nearby.

The ride up to Evenfall Hall was beautiful in the gathering dusk. The road wound along the coast, offering glimpses of the sea turned purple and gold by the setting sun. The castle itself rose against the darkening sky, pale stone seeming to glow.

But Elia's enjoyment was tempered by having her adventure cut short. She'd enjoyed being just one more person among the crowd. Now she was Princess Elia again, with all that entailed.

xxx

At the castle, Elia was surprised by the reception.

Or rather, the lack of one.

Only three women came to greet them in the courtyard. One woman, really, and one heavily pregnant at that. Beside her stood two young girls who couldn't be older than thirteen.

Where was Lord Selwyn? Where was Galladon?

Before formal introductions could be made, Ashara blurted out, "Where's Ser Galladon?"

The younger girl with black hair, so unlike Galladon's coloring, frowned. "How do you know my brother?"

An awkward silence fell over the party.

The woman, who was clearly Lady Tarth, stepped in smoothly, putting one hand on the girl's shoulder. "Be welcome to our home, my lord and ladies. House Tarth is honored to receive members of House Martell on our island." Her smile was perfectly polite. "Even if the prince and princess did not feel our humble castle warranted a formal visit. Or even a simple word ahead of time."

The cutting undertone was unmistakable.

Elia felt Ashara's glare burning beside her. This was not a great start with Galladon's family.

"Please forgive me, Lady Tarth," Elia said, matching the woman's polite tone. "The fault is entirely mine. We befriended Ser Galladon during his stay in Sunspear and wanted to surprise him with a visit. I'm afraid my desire for spontaneity overrode my better judgment regarding proper courtesy."

Oberyn added his own charm, stepping forward with a disarming smile. "I apologize as well, my lady. The last thing we would wish is to cause you any undue difficulty, especially in your condition." He gestured to her pregnancy. "You look radiant, if I may say so. The Evenstar clearly shines on you."

Lady Tarth's expression softened slightly at the compliment, though her eyes remained shrewd. "You are not the only unexpected guests we've had word of recently. Though our Lannister visitor at least sent notice of his impending arrival."

"Ser Gerion is here?" Elia asked before she could stop herself.

A knowing smile appeared on Lady Tarth's face, one eyebrow rising. "Not yet. But his letter said he would be arriving within a few days."

Elia felt heat rise to her cheeks. She'd given herself away completely.

"My husband and my son are not currently at Evenfall Hall," Lady Tarth continued. "But you are welcome to stay as our guests and wait for them, should you wish. We would be poor hosts to turn away allies who have traveled so far."

Bread and salt were brought, the traditional guest right. Once they'd partaken, they were formally under House Tarth's protection. The two girls were introduced as Arianne and Alysanne, Galladon's younger sisters. The blonde one, Alysanne, was chatty and immediately began asking questions all about Dorne and Sunspear and their journey here.

Arianne, on the other hand, remained more reserved, watching them with suspicious dark eyes that reminded Elia uncomfortably of Galladon's intensity.

As they walked through the marble halls toward the guest quarters, Oberyn fell into step beside Arianne. "So where is your brother currently?"

"Why do you want to know?" Her tone was guarded.

Oberyn laughed. "Because he's a friend, of course."

Arianne's sharp gaze switched to Ashara. "And to you? Is Galladon your friend too, Lady Dayne?"

Ashara looked to Elia as if seeking help.

Elia shrugged. You got yourself into this.

"Er, yes, my lady," Ashara managed. "You could say that."

The girl's eyes only narrowed further. She sniffed and continued walking in silence.

Alysanne picked up the conversation as if her sister had never said anything, chattering about the upcoming tourney and asking if they would stay for it and whether any of them could shoot a bow.

Elia caught Oberyn's amused expression. Clearly he found the younger Tarth girl's protective instincts entertaining.

This was going to be an interesting visit.

xxx

They spent three days at Evenfall Hall before anyone else arrived.

When they weren't down at Dawnrest on their daily trips to the town, Lady Tarth had given them leave to come and go as they pleased, or being taken riding and hawking by Alysanne Tarth across the beautiful fields and forests around the castle, they settled into a comfortable routine.

Oberyn spent his days wearing the Tarth guards ragged in the practice yard. Elia watched from a window one afternoon as he sparred with three men at once, his spear a blur of motion. The guards were good, well-trained and experienced, but Oberyn was the Red Viper. They didn't stand a chance.

Meanwhile, Elia and Ashara enjoyed Lady Addison Tarth's company. The woman proved an attentive hostess despite her advanced pregnancy. She invited them to the castle gardens, which were lovely despite the late season, and they took lunch together every day in a small dining room with windows overlooking the sea.

Elia found herself delighted by Lady Addison. The woman was intelligent, well-read, and had a dry wit that kept conversation engaging. She asked about Dorne with genuine curiosity, not just making polite conversation, and she shared stories about Tarth, about raising three children, about the challenges of managing a household while one's husband was often away on lord's business.

She didn't ask about why they'd come unannounced. Didn't pry into Elia's relationship with Gerion or Ashara's interest in Galladon. Just offered gracious hospitality and pleasant company.

On the fourth morning, everything changed.

Lady Addison had invited them to break their fast in a more intimate area of the castle, a small dining room usually reserved for family only. Elia appreciated the gesture. It made her feel less like a formal guest and more like... well, like family.

They were partway through the meal when the door opened and Galladon Tarth walked in, still wearing riding clothes, his hair windblown.

He stopped short when he saw them all seated at the table.

"Lady Ashara," he said, his voice slightly breathless. Then his eyes swept across the rest of the room. "Princess Elia. Prince Oberyn." His bewilderment was palpable. "This is a surprise."

Elia opened her mouth to respond explain the whole situation, but a man's voice sounded from down the hallway. 

"Galladon!" Footsteps approached. "When did you invite so many guests for the tourney?” Lord Selwyn Tarth walked into the room then, holding a piece of paper in his hand. “And why did I get a letter about a possible betrothal with a Hightower girl?"

Elia found herself blurting out, “What?” 

"What?" Ashara echoed, her voice equally shocked.

"What?" That was Arianne Tarth, who'd been quietly eating her breakfast until that moment.

Lord Selwyn stopped short when he saw all of them seated at the table.

"Oh. My apologies. I didn't expect our guests to be here."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Elia stared at Galladon, who looked like he wanted the floor to open and swallow him whole. His father stood in the doorway, clearly confused. Ashara had gone pale. Arianne looked between all of them with wide eyes.

And Elia felt her heart stomach as one word kept echoing in her mind.

Betrothal.

xxx

AN: Alright, you're going to have to forgive me for this chapter and for it being late. I had a strange week writing/creatively-wise and decided to scrap my plans for the next four chapters, including what I had written. This is a result of a last minute scramble to get to where I want. Bit of a slice-of-life chapter here. By the end of next chapter, we'll be heading off to Essos.