Post by Josmyn Martell on Aug 8, 2012 17:33:35 GMT -5
Life had been as normal for Josmyn as it had been for the past few years. Every morning, he got up, he did his duties, he froze half to death, he ate something that was supposed to be stew, and he went to bed. Then, when he awoke the next morning the cycle would begin anew, like it had for the past several years.
However, one day, the monotony was broken when he found two letters waiting on his bed when he entered his quarters one night. In all of his days on the Wall, no one from his past life had so much as bothered to inquire whether or not he was dead or alive. Not even his favorite half-sister, Obara. She would have never been a great beauty that songs were sung about, but Obara was an amazing fighter in her own right, and smarter than most other people. Once, Josmyn thought at least she would keep up with him via letters, in secret and away from their father. If not her, perhaps one of his other sisters. But no, not one of the Sand Snakes, as they styled themselves, had bothered to send him a note.
Often, the dark haired bastard prince had thought about sending a letter to one of them, to see if they'd right back but then his father's warning echoed in his ear, the last sentence he'd ever heard from Prince Oberyn, “If you write to anyone in Sunspear, I will find out. They will be punished and so shall you. Risk my wrath if you dare.”
His father had spared him no kind words, no sweet advice, or anything of the like. Indeed, for all intents and purposes, Josmyn had been utterly cast out from his family. When he'd been ailing shortly after he'd arrived to Castle Black, in his feverish state, he remembered calling out to his father, his sisters, uncle, cousin, anyone of his family to come and save him. Yet it had only been Maester Aemon's medicine that pulled him back from the brink, not a friendly Martell hand to hold.
And for the longest time, contemplating all these things, Josmyn Sand, Ranger of the Night's Watch, sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the letter. Perhaps it had come bearing tidings of his father's death to say that now he could, at least, freely converse with those that he'd left behind. It was a sad day when men would welcome news of their father's passing and yet, Prince Oberyn had left him little else.
Drawing in a deep breath, Sand flipped over the letter that had been laying on top and broke the plain, unadorned wax seal with a swipe of his index finger. His eyes darted back and forth across the page, scarcely believing what it was that he was reading.
Dear brother,
Your spear-sister goes bored without you here to spar with. It has been too long since you were unfairly sent to that cold waste and I mean to bring you back. Our illustrious father has not only discarded you, but your oldest sisters as well. Instead now, he ignores us and leaves us to our own devices, favoring his younger children and their mother.
It is pathetic. No longer do we make our home with our cousins nor are we welcomed there. Father has seen to that. Not even our sweet sister is allowed to speak with her favorite cousin, though, that appears more the fault of the cousin than of father.
At first, I was angry that you did not write us and tell us that you lived. However, a few months ago, father let slip over wine what he had told you. Immediately, we, your dear sisters, began to plot for you. Plot vengeance. No longer can we allow our father to mistreat you and discard us. If I know you, sandy-one, I know you will have also plotted against those that sent you into exile. We have our own plan and we believe it to be our best chance of seeing you again.
In a few weeks, we fear a great plague will sweep over Dorne, cutting down smallfolk and highborn alike. Indeed, we fear that not even the one you trained with and his younger brother will be spared. However, things are not always what they seem. There should be a second letter, written in our father's own hand and sealed with his seal, talking to our beautiful cousin in the most queer words. It seems as though he favors her above all his paramours and between them, they conspire to take our ancestral lands for their own and set themselves against our beloved uncle.
As this letter was written under certain influences, such as the one you took when you first arrived where you are, I advise you to be very careful to whom you show it and to wait, at least a month, before you do anything rash like contact our uncle. While he needs to be informed, we must wait to see if these plans truly take place. If so, then our father is a scoundrel and must be exposed. If not, then I beg you to burn both of these letters and write this off as a mummer's folly.
Whatever comes to pass in the next month, never doubt that your sisters intend to see you home and put in a place of honor that you once dreamt of. If you would, write home, in this style, and tell us about your adventures for we miss you dearly.
Love,
Your Spear-sister
His eyes swept over the letter again and again. Obara and the rest of the Sand Snakes had conspired for him. They, like him, had grown weary of their father's behavior. It had taken them longer, but the end result was the same. All but the youngest of Oberyn's bastards were conspiring against him. While the Red Viper was cunning, he had trained them all too well. Indeed, it would be like trying to play five games of cyvasse against five masters all at the same time. He would make mistakes and together, they would capitalize on them and take their rightful places among House Martell.
Reading over the letter again, to someone other than Josmyn, it would seem like nonsense and be nigh unreadable, especially with his sister's handwriting. However, to him, it spelled out everything he needed to know. His sisters were angry at their father for his treatment of them and that of their older brother. They'd been kicked out of Sunspear, much as he had, though they had not been sent north, likely only because the Night's Watch did not take women. It seemed that his once dear father was treating his children like he'd treated the various paramours in his life.
When he reached the point about the sickness that was going to sweep over Dorne, Josmyn had to admit that he was impressed. If he was reading everything correctly, it appeared that his sisters were going poison low and highborn alike in an effort to get rid of his two male cousins then frame his father and the heir to Sunspear for the crimes. It was no secret that Arianne held hatred for her brother Quentyn, whom it was said her father prefered. Idly, he felt a pang of sympathy for his two cousins that would die. They had been innocents but alas, in war, there was always collateral damage in war.
They spoke of putting him in a position of honor and all he could think were that they were going to ensure that his uncle named him his heir and legitimized him. How that would help him on the edge of the world, he was unclear but from this one letter, Josmyn was quickly learning not to underestimate his sisters. Still, it would not hurt to bring his concerns up to Obara when he wrote her as she requested.
Immediately, he began scouring his room for a quill and ink and parchment. He found it all on the desk he'd never had cause to use, except when he wrote up small reports on his ranging missions for the Watch.
Putting ink to paper, Josmyn struggled to make his thoughts coherent, the mere thought of truly leaving the Wall completely rattling his existence. He'd dreamed about it for so long but for it to actually be possible, well, it boggled his mind.
Dear Spear-sister,
Life here is cold. That is as plainly as I can put it. It has been far too long since we have seen each other. Too long since I've had proper sun on my face and true friends surrounding me. Not all of those here are terrible though. One managed to save my life. Perhaps I shall even bring him home with me, if I ever get that chance.
While it tears my heart to think that our father has abandoned you, I can not say I am surprised. Our father is much like a child with his toys. When a new one arrives, the old ones get pushed to the side. I blame him for all that has befallen me these past few years. He and our uncle. It was under their command that I was sent to where I am and it is here that I've nearly perished, at least twice.
As for the upcoming sickness, it pains me to hear that our father has become so craven that he would take his own niece to bed and allow a plague to rampage his people, all because of jealousy of his brother. I know that you and I and our other sisters have never been jealous of each other, that we all simply wanted what should have been ours. We did not seek anything above our level, simply recognition. It is a pity it shall have to come after such a tragedy.
And that I promise, that wherever I end up, I shall raise you to my level for I remember my family and will never outcast you. We share blood and that is a noble thing. You will be my equal and my council. However, I must ask how am I to get from where I am to where our ancestral lands are? Currently, I have no leave I can take. I do not doubt that you have made arrangements, only, I know not how they will work. Perhaps you could enlighten me further, to give me some respite from the ice I find myself among. If I know I am soon to be with you, and the how, I will better tolerate these upcoming weeks.
As for our uncle, do not worry, dear sister. I will pen a letter that he can not help but believe. I still remember all the lessons we were taught and I shall put them to good use. Also, I am sending this letter via a man well paid. All he knows is that this a letter from a brother banished to a dear sister. Let him keep his life. Or not. It makes little difference to me.
Getting your letter has lifted a burden from my heart, I must confess. For too long, I thought that I had been forgotten by you as well as our father. Now, I see I was wrong and I am relieved to once again have your council. I missed you, dear spear-sister. How fare our other sisters? The ones father has tired of?
Know I shall be waiting every night for word from you and I shall spring into action the moment you give me the sign.
Until then, I remain your loving brother.
He ended the letter and read it again, making sure it was as untelling as Obara's had been. When he had satisfied himself that it was, he sealed it in wax with no adornment, as his sister had done. The next morning, when he'd awoke, he gave the letter to a black brother headed south via boat on a mission to bring more brothers to the wall. The letter would make it home, he knew. He'd given the man seven gold dragons to ensure it.
As the weeks past and still, Josmyn received no further word from his sister. He wasn't surprised, though he was anxious. The trip between the Wall and Dorne was a long one and one that was ripe with hazards that could present themselves at any second. Still, each night when he returned to his quarters, Josmyn couldn't help but sigh when he found that his pillow did not contain a return letter.
The one that had been left in his care, the one emblazoned with his father's seal and signature, had been safeguarded in a leather pouch in a stone alcove in one of the walls of his quarters. It required knowledge of the alcove as well as a dagger to get at. With his freedom from this icy hell on the line, Sand took little chance someone else might stumble across it. He'd burned his sister's letter as soon as he had penned a reply. Evidence in this kind of plot could be damning and he knew that Obara would do that same. They had been raised to be paranoid and if she was truly going to attempt what she said she was, and Josmyn did not doubt his sister, she would do exactly the same thing.
One night, after being gone on a ranging for three days, Josmyn entered his room, near to passing out from the work he had done out beyond the Wall. Ice and wildlings had taken a toll on him but none of that mattered when he saw a lone letter sitting on his pillow, exactly as the first one had been a month and a half prior. It bore the same unadorned wax and when he broke the seal, immediately he recognized the hand writing. This time, it was his sister Nymeria that had written to him.
Dear brother,
Our spear-sister has bid me to write to you to tell you that a plague has indeed broken out amongst our people. It is a horrible thing to watch. Even our dear cousins have fallen victim to it. Even now, the youngest one clings to life though the Maester himself knows not how. He is not expected to live through the night.
Our dear sister, she received your letter and is happy to know that you will remember us when you take what you asked for. We ask for that as well, though, we do not seek the place our cousin has. That will be left to you. We merely want that our blood entitles us to, just like you did.
I cannot spare any more words for you, only that I cannot wait to see you again. Know that we will see you again for a king can pardon all, even what you will have to do to return to us. You shall have this. We shall see to it. Now write to our uncle. Send him what you have and tell him what you know. We continue to work and soon, you shall be in the sun and away from there.
Your Sword-Sister.
When he read the words of Nymeria, a smile came to his face. She had never been one for drawn out words or letters. Indeed, she was blunt but that was part of her charm. One never had to wonder where they stood with his second sister. She would always let one know and in a spectacular way. He remembered once that she'd hamstrung someone that would not quit hitting on her. In her defense, she'd warned him excessively but he'd continued to press her for favors and she solved her own problem. Luckily, the man had just been a soldier and of no consequence, though he doubted that anyone would hold it against her. However, something similar had happened to his poor friend, Florien, had been sent north for a similar crime, though the situations were not entirely the same.
He got up from his bed and pried the rock free that had been hiding the letter from everyone. He broke the seal and read the words his father had written under the influence of milk of the poppy. Truly, his sisters were brilliant women. And it seemed they were going make him heir to Dorne, something he'd not ever have thought possible but yet his sisters were making it so that it was. They would have the best lands in Dorne. He would see to that.
Scanning the letter so he'd know what to include in his letter to Prince Doran, his uncle, Josmyn took a calming breath and began to write. He'd been planning this for weeks and now was his chance to shine.
To Prince Doran Nymeros Martell, Lord of Sunspear, Prince of Dorne,
I write to you with a heavy heart, uncle. I have recently received a letter, penned by my father's own hand, your own brother, speaking about how he has recently set into motion a plot for your titles. However, while this by itself might not surprise you, his supporters might, for it seems that he has begun a shameful relationship with your own daughter and my own cousin. The two of them have set into motion the plague that has sped through Dorne and killed so many of my countrymen.
This letter was sent to me by a servant loyal to House Martell. She found it within the Princess's own chambers and was scared to present it to you herself for fear you might imprison her. Instead, she sent it to me and bade me to send it to you, excluding her name, since being of the Night's Watch, I am beyond further punishment.
When I first read the letter, I was saddened, for whatever anger I might have held toward you over my banishment has long cooled in the icy weather of the Wall. I recognize that I should not have asked for what I did. However, I can not let my father, cousin, and the members of House Allyrion and House Qorygle gain control from you. You are the true ruler and for them to massacre our people in an effort against you sickens me. Would that I could myself, I would ride in and bring justice to them myself but I am too far to do this.
Know that, as always, I remain loyal to our House, even if I do not bear the name. I hope that my dear cousins Quentyn and Trystane have managed to avoid this poison though I fear for the worst given who is involved. All I ask is that you write to me when you have dealt with my treacherous father and let me know that Dorne and my family are safe from his machinations.
Yours sincerely,
Josmyn Sand, Ranger of the Night's Watch
Sealing the letter with the seal of the Night's Watch, he took a steadying breath and tucked the letter into a leather pouch, along with that of his father's letter. Tomorrow, he would make the trip to Eastwatch and set this on a boat himself with a man whose hand he'd fill with gold to make sure that the letter got to where it needed to go.
And that he did, the next day, Josmyn was sent on a supply run to Eastwatch. He wasted no time in getting to the docks and speaking to one of the south-bound captains. He impressed upon the man that the letter was to go to Prince Doran Martell, though he told him that it was for business of the Night's Watch. At first, the man seemed hesitant to deliver the message but fifteen golden coins quickly changed his tune and the captain swore that he would hand the package to the Prince of Dorne himself. With a smile and a nod, Josmyn left the man, certain that he would soon be hearing from his uncle.
Idly, he thought about informing his friend Florien about what was unfolding in the south but he thought better of it. The less the knight knew right now, the better. However, he vowed that once he received the word to go south and assume his place in House Martell, he would offer his fellow bastard a place in Dorne as a lord. It was the least that he could do for the man that had saved him from having his head cleaved from his shoulders by a falling wildling.
Three weeks went by before he heard back from his uncle. The message for him arrived via raven and he was summoned to Maester Aemon's tower to pick it up. He kept the message sealed until he arrived back in his quarters, no matter how anxious he was to read what was written to him. This would determine his future and the future of his sisters. It was the single most important piece of correspondence that he had ever held within his fingers in his entire life.
Baring the door behind him, he broke the seal on the letter, his dark brown eyes flashing back and forth over the words that had been written, obviously in grief by his uncle. His breath caught in his throat as he read the opening salutation.
To Prince Josmyn Nymeros Martell, Heir to Sunspear and all of Dorne,
It is with a heavy heart that I must name you my heir and admit that you spoke the truth of my brother and daughter. They conspired against their kin, killed their bannermen, and ultimately dishonored themselves before the Seven and me. My own sons, the ones you graciously asked after, died before I received your letter. I watched as the poison their own uncle and sister afflicted them with ate away their life.
When I set my guards to arrest the ones responsible, I found they had already fled across the Narrow Sea, along with the ones that obviously supported their coup. Your sisters, the Sand Snakes, they stood with me, though, and showed my men how their father had written them, asking if they had become ill yet. It seems he meant to eliminate them as well. Truly, I do not know what caused this or your father to seduce my daughter but I am sickened by it.
As for you, Josmyn, your family loyalty is admirable, considering that it was we that cast you aside. I must confide in you that it was your father that asked me to force the black on you. His reasons were his own, though he told me that he feared you would be a threat to the succession. I see now this was a ploy to divert attention from himself. I apologize for sentencing you to the Wall and I ask you to return to your family to serve as my heir.
Yes, you read that right. I have written to King Joffrey, though I have no love of the Lannisters, and secured for you a pardon for leaving the Night Watch in exchange for military support for King's Landing. Indeed, Lord Tywin himself as assured me that no one will lay a hand on you as you journey to Sunspear. The letter itself is enclosed as well. It should offer you the protection need until you get to Dorne. Once here, you will be accorded all honors and respect as is due the crown prince.
There is a boat waiting for you and any companions that you might seek to bring with you off the docks at Eastwatch. While I can not offer them a pardon as I have done for you, I can offer them sanctuary here in Dorne and you deserve to have friends around you as you make this transition. The boat will leave when you arrive.
I await your arrival with a heavy heart.
Your uncle,
Prince Doran, Lord of Sunspear, Prince of Dorne.
Instantly, he read the letter over again before pulling free the other piece of parchment and seeing that it was indeed a pardon affixed with the king's seal. It had hurt his uncle to ask for that pardon and yet he had. As to his father, he would have preferred that Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne would have been put to death but with them in Essos, well, he would go about solidifying his position and deal with them should they ever rear their heads.
Closing his eyes for a second, Josmyn opened them to see that it was truly happening. And it was. He was the Crown Prince of Dorne. Whereas once he'd just wanted the title Prince, now it seems he was going to be ruling. And he was no long a bastard. He was a true member of House Martell. It felt as good as he thought it would. Once he landed in Sunspear, Josmyn would gather his sisters to them and declare them legitimate as well and give them the choice lands in Dorne. With the “plague” that had swept across Dorne, there was no doubt that there were openings and fortresses that needed new nobility. It would also be a chance for House Martell to establish a more direct control over their bannermen in case war was brought to them, either by the Lannisters or his father. No doubt, Prince Doran would agree with his plan.
Packing up all of his belongings, the Dornishman found that all of what he had that did not belong to the Night's Watch could fit into one bag. His armor and furs, he kept though he vowed to send a caravan of supplies to the Wall once he'd established his rule. As he glanced around his room one last time, Josmyn grinned broadly, happy to be leaving the place once and for all.
Exiting his room, the newly christened Martell turned and ventured towards the quarters of his friend Florien. He would rouse him and they could be off for a new life together tonight. And what a sweet life it would be.
(Word Count: 4358)
However, one day, the monotony was broken when he found two letters waiting on his bed when he entered his quarters one night. In all of his days on the Wall, no one from his past life had so much as bothered to inquire whether or not he was dead or alive. Not even his favorite half-sister, Obara. She would have never been a great beauty that songs were sung about, but Obara was an amazing fighter in her own right, and smarter than most other people. Once, Josmyn thought at least she would keep up with him via letters, in secret and away from their father. If not her, perhaps one of his other sisters. But no, not one of the Sand Snakes, as they styled themselves, had bothered to send him a note.
Often, the dark haired bastard prince had thought about sending a letter to one of them, to see if they'd right back but then his father's warning echoed in his ear, the last sentence he'd ever heard from Prince Oberyn, “If you write to anyone in Sunspear, I will find out. They will be punished and so shall you. Risk my wrath if you dare.”
His father had spared him no kind words, no sweet advice, or anything of the like. Indeed, for all intents and purposes, Josmyn had been utterly cast out from his family. When he'd been ailing shortly after he'd arrived to Castle Black, in his feverish state, he remembered calling out to his father, his sisters, uncle, cousin, anyone of his family to come and save him. Yet it had only been Maester Aemon's medicine that pulled him back from the brink, not a friendly Martell hand to hold.
And for the longest time, contemplating all these things, Josmyn Sand, Ranger of the Night's Watch, sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the letter. Perhaps it had come bearing tidings of his father's death to say that now he could, at least, freely converse with those that he'd left behind. It was a sad day when men would welcome news of their father's passing and yet, Prince Oberyn had left him little else.
Drawing in a deep breath, Sand flipped over the letter that had been laying on top and broke the plain, unadorned wax seal with a swipe of his index finger. His eyes darted back and forth across the page, scarcely believing what it was that he was reading.
Dear brother,
Your spear-sister goes bored without you here to spar with. It has been too long since you were unfairly sent to that cold waste and I mean to bring you back. Our illustrious father has not only discarded you, but your oldest sisters as well. Instead now, he ignores us and leaves us to our own devices, favoring his younger children and their mother.
It is pathetic. No longer do we make our home with our cousins nor are we welcomed there. Father has seen to that. Not even our sweet sister is allowed to speak with her favorite cousin, though, that appears more the fault of the cousin than of father.
At first, I was angry that you did not write us and tell us that you lived. However, a few months ago, father let slip over wine what he had told you. Immediately, we, your dear sisters, began to plot for you. Plot vengeance. No longer can we allow our father to mistreat you and discard us. If I know you, sandy-one, I know you will have also plotted against those that sent you into exile. We have our own plan and we believe it to be our best chance of seeing you again.
In a few weeks, we fear a great plague will sweep over Dorne, cutting down smallfolk and highborn alike. Indeed, we fear that not even the one you trained with and his younger brother will be spared. However, things are not always what they seem. There should be a second letter, written in our father's own hand and sealed with his seal, talking to our beautiful cousin in the most queer words. It seems as though he favors her above all his paramours and between them, they conspire to take our ancestral lands for their own and set themselves against our beloved uncle.
As this letter was written under certain influences, such as the one you took when you first arrived where you are, I advise you to be very careful to whom you show it and to wait, at least a month, before you do anything rash like contact our uncle. While he needs to be informed, we must wait to see if these plans truly take place. If so, then our father is a scoundrel and must be exposed. If not, then I beg you to burn both of these letters and write this off as a mummer's folly.
Whatever comes to pass in the next month, never doubt that your sisters intend to see you home and put in a place of honor that you once dreamt of. If you would, write home, in this style, and tell us about your adventures for we miss you dearly.
Love,
Your Spear-sister
His eyes swept over the letter again and again. Obara and the rest of the Sand Snakes had conspired for him. They, like him, had grown weary of their father's behavior. It had taken them longer, but the end result was the same. All but the youngest of Oberyn's bastards were conspiring against him. While the Red Viper was cunning, he had trained them all too well. Indeed, it would be like trying to play five games of cyvasse against five masters all at the same time. He would make mistakes and together, they would capitalize on them and take their rightful places among House Martell.
Reading over the letter again, to someone other than Josmyn, it would seem like nonsense and be nigh unreadable, especially with his sister's handwriting. However, to him, it spelled out everything he needed to know. His sisters were angry at their father for his treatment of them and that of their older brother. They'd been kicked out of Sunspear, much as he had, though they had not been sent north, likely only because the Night's Watch did not take women. It seemed that his once dear father was treating his children like he'd treated the various paramours in his life.
When he reached the point about the sickness that was going to sweep over Dorne, Josmyn had to admit that he was impressed. If he was reading everything correctly, it appeared that his sisters were going poison low and highborn alike in an effort to get rid of his two male cousins then frame his father and the heir to Sunspear for the crimes. It was no secret that Arianne held hatred for her brother Quentyn, whom it was said her father prefered. Idly, he felt a pang of sympathy for his two cousins that would die. They had been innocents but alas, in war, there was always collateral damage in war.
They spoke of putting him in a position of honor and all he could think were that they were going to ensure that his uncle named him his heir and legitimized him. How that would help him on the edge of the world, he was unclear but from this one letter, Josmyn was quickly learning not to underestimate his sisters. Still, it would not hurt to bring his concerns up to Obara when he wrote her as she requested.
Immediately, he began scouring his room for a quill and ink and parchment. He found it all on the desk he'd never had cause to use, except when he wrote up small reports on his ranging missions for the Watch.
Putting ink to paper, Josmyn struggled to make his thoughts coherent, the mere thought of truly leaving the Wall completely rattling his existence. He'd dreamed about it for so long but for it to actually be possible, well, it boggled his mind.
Dear Spear-sister,
Life here is cold. That is as plainly as I can put it. It has been far too long since we have seen each other. Too long since I've had proper sun on my face and true friends surrounding me. Not all of those here are terrible though. One managed to save my life. Perhaps I shall even bring him home with me, if I ever get that chance.
While it tears my heart to think that our father has abandoned you, I can not say I am surprised. Our father is much like a child with his toys. When a new one arrives, the old ones get pushed to the side. I blame him for all that has befallen me these past few years. He and our uncle. It was under their command that I was sent to where I am and it is here that I've nearly perished, at least twice.
As for the upcoming sickness, it pains me to hear that our father has become so craven that he would take his own niece to bed and allow a plague to rampage his people, all because of jealousy of his brother. I know that you and I and our other sisters have never been jealous of each other, that we all simply wanted what should have been ours. We did not seek anything above our level, simply recognition. It is a pity it shall have to come after such a tragedy.
And that I promise, that wherever I end up, I shall raise you to my level for I remember my family and will never outcast you. We share blood and that is a noble thing. You will be my equal and my council. However, I must ask how am I to get from where I am to where our ancestral lands are? Currently, I have no leave I can take. I do not doubt that you have made arrangements, only, I know not how they will work. Perhaps you could enlighten me further, to give me some respite from the ice I find myself among. If I know I am soon to be with you, and the how, I will better tolerate these upcoming weeks.
As for our uncle, do not worry, dear sister. I will pen a letter that he can not help but believe. I still remember all the lessons we were taught and I shall put them to good use. Also, I am sending this letter via a man well paid. All he knows is that this a letter from a brother banished to a dear sister. Let him keep his life. Or not. It makes little difference to me.
Getting your letter has lifted a burden from my heart, I must confess. For too long, I thought that I had been forgotten by you as well as our father. Now, I see I was wrong and I am relieved to once again have your council. I missed you, dear spear-sister. How fare our other sisters? The ones father has tired of?
Know I shall be waiting every night for word from you and I shall spring into action the moment you give me the sign.
Until then, I remain your loving brother.
He ended the letter and read it again, making sure it was as untelling as Obara's had been. When he had satisfied himself that it was, he sealed it in wax with no adornment, as his sister had done. The next morning, when he'd awoke, he gave the letter to a black brother headed south via boat on a mission to bring more brothers to the wall. The letter would make it home, he knew. He'd given the man seven gold dragons to ensure it.
As the weeks past and still, Josmyn received no further word from his sister. He wasn't surprised, though he was anxious. The trip between the Wall and Dorne was a long one and one that was ripe with hazards that could present themselves at any second. Still, each night when he returned to his quarters, Josmyn couldn't help but sigh when he found that his pillow did not contain a return letter.
The one that had been left in his care, the one emblazoned with his father's seal and signature, had been safeguarded in a leather pouch in a stone alcove in one of the walls of his quarters. It required knowledge of the alcove as well as a dagger to get at. With his freedom from this icy hell on the line, Sand took little chance someone else might stumble across it. He'd burned his sister's letter as soon as he had penned a reply. Evidence in this kind of plot could be damning and he knew that Obara would do that same. They had been raised to be paranoid and if she was truly going to attempt what she said she was, and Josmyn did not doubt his sister, she would do exactly the same thing.
One night, after being gone on a ranging for three days, Josmyn entered his room, near to passing out from the work he had done out beyond the Wall. Ice and wildlings had taken a toll on him but none of that mattered when he saw a lone letter sitting on his pillow, exactly as the first one had been a month and a half prior. It bore the same unadorned wax and when he broke the seal, immediately he recognized the hand writing. This time, it was his sister Nymeria that had written to him.
Dear brother,
Our spear-sister has bid me to write to you to tell you that a plague has indeed broken out amongst our people. It is a horrible thing to watch. Even our dear cousins have fallen victim to it. Even now, the youngest one clings to life though the Maester himself knows not how. He is not expected to live through the night.
Our dear sister, she received your letter and is happy to know that you will remember us when you take what you asked for. We ask for that as well, though, we do not seek the place our cousin has. That will be left to you. We merely want that our blood entitles us to, just like you did.
I cannot spare any more words for you, only that I cannot wait to see you again. Know that we will see you again for a king can pardon all, even what you will have to do to return to us. You shall have this. We shall see to it. Now write to our uncle. Send him what you have and tell him what you know. We continue to work and soon, you shall be in the sun and away from there.
Your Sword-Sister.
When he read the words of Nymeria, a smile came to his face. She had never been one for drawn out words or letters. Indeed, she was blunt but that was part of her charm. One never had to wonder where they stood with his second sister. She would always let one know and in a spectacular way. He remembered once that she'd hamstrung someone that would not quit hitting on her. In her defense, she'd warned him excessively but he'd continued to press her for favors and she solved her own problem. Luckily, the man had just been a soldier and of no consequence, though he doubted that anyone would hold it against her. However, something similar had happened to his poor friend, Florien, had been sent north for a similar crime, though the situations were not entirely the same.
He got up from his bed and pried the rock free that had been hiding the letter from everyone. He broke the seal and read the words his father had written under the influence of milk of the poppy. Truly, his sisters were brilliant women. And it seemed they were going make him heir to Dorne, something he'd not ever have thought possible but yet his sisters were making it so that it was. They would have the best lands in Dorne. He would see to that.
Scanning the letter so he'd know what to include in his letter to Prince Doran, his uncle, Josmyn took a calming breath and began to write. He'd been planning this for weeks and now was his chance to shine.
To Prince Doran Nymeros Martell, Lord of Sunspear, Prince of Dorne,
I write to you with a heavy heart, uncle. I have recently received a letter, penned by my father's own hand, your own brother, speaking about how he has recently set into motion a plot for your titles. However, while this by itself might not surprise you, his supporters might, for it seems that he has begun a shameful relationship with your own daughter and my own cousin. The two of them have set into motion the plague that has sped through Dorne and killed so many of my countrymen.
This letter was sent to me by a servant loyal to House Martell. She found it within the Princess's own chambers and was scared to present it to you herself for fear you might imprison her. Instead, she sent it to me and bade me to send it to you, excluding her name, since being of the Night's Watch, I am beyond further punishment.
When I first read the letter, I was saddened, for whatever anger I might have held toward you over my banishment has long cooled in the icy weather of the Wall. I recognize that I should not have asked for what I did. However, I can not let my father, cousin, and the members of House Allyrion and House Qorygle gain control from you. You are the true ruler and for them to massacre our people in an effort against you sickens me. Would that I could myself, I would ride in and bring justice to them myself but I am too far to do this.
Know that, as always, I remain loyal to our House, even if I do not bear the name. I hope that my dear cousins Quentyn and Trystane have managed to avoid this poison though I fear for the worst given who is involved. All I ask is that you write to me when you have dealt with my treacherous father and let me know that Dorne and my family are safe from his machinations.
Yours sincerely,
Josmyn Sand, Ranger of the Night's Watch
Sealing the letter with the seal of the Night's Watch, he took a steadying breath and tucked the letter into a leather pouch, along with that of his father's letter. Tomorrow, he would make the trip to Eastwatch and set this on a boat himself with a man whose hand he'd fill with gold to make sure that the letter got to where it needed to go.
And that he did, the next day, Josmyn was sent on a supply run to Eastwatch. He wasted no time in getting to the docks and speaking to one of the south-bound captains. He impressed upon the man that the letter was to go to Prince Doran Martell, though he told him that it was for business of the Night's Watch. At first, the man seemed hesitant to deliver the message but fifteen golden coins quickly changed his tune and the captain swore that he would hand the package to the Prince of Dorne himself. With a smile and a nod, Josmyn left the man, certain that he would soon be hearing from his uncle.
Idly, he thought about informing his friend Florien about what was unfolding in the south but he thought better of it. The less the knight knew right now, the better. However, he vowed that once he received the word to go south and assume his place in House Martell, he would offer his fellow bastard a place in Dorne as a lord. It was the least that he could do for the man that had saved him from having his head cleaved from his shoulders by a falling wildling.
Three weeks went by before he heard back from his uncle. The message for him arrived via raven and he was summoned to Maester Aemon's tower to pick it up. He kept the message sealed until he arrived back in his quarters, no matter how anxious he was to read what was written to him. This would determine his future and the future of his sisters. It was the single most important piece of correspondence that he had ever held within his fingers in his entire life.
Baring the door behind him, he broke the seal on the letter, his dark brown eyes flashing back and forth over the words that had been written, obviously in grief by his uncle. His breath caught in his throat as he read the opening salutation.
To Prince Josmyn Nymeros Martell, Heir to Sunspear and all of Dorne,
It is with a heavy heart that I must name you my heir and admit that you spoke the truth of my brother and daughter. They conspired against their kin, killed their bannermen, and ultimately dishonored themselves before the Seven and me. My own sons, the ones you graciously asked after, died before I received your letter. I watched as the poison their own uncle and sister afflicted them with ate away their life.
When I set my guards to arrest the ones responsible, I found they had already fled across the Narrow Sea, along with the ones that obviously supported their coup. Your sisters, the Sand Snakes, they stood with me, though, and showed my men how their father had written them, asking if they had become ill yet. It seems he meant to eliminate them as well. Truly, I do not know what caused this or your father to seduce my daughter but I am sickened by it.
As for you, Josmyn, your family loyalty is admirable, considering that it was we that cast you aside. I must confide in you that it was your father that asked me to force the black on you. His reasons were his own, though he told me that he feared you would be a threat to the succession. I see now this was a ploy to divert attention from himself. I apologize for sentencing you to the Wall and I ask you to return to your family to serve as my heir.
Yes, you read that right. I have written to King Joffrey, though I have no love of the Lannisters, and secured for you a pardon for leaving the Night Watch in exchange for military support for King's Landing. Indeed, Lord Tywin himself as assured me that no one will lay a hand on you as you journey to Sunspear. The letter itself is enclosed as well. It should offer you the protection need until you get to Dorne. Once here, you will be accorded all honors and respect as is due the crown prince.
There is a boat waiting for you and any companions that you might seek to bring with you off the docks at Eastwatch. While I can not offer them a pardon as I have done for you, I can offer them sanctuary here in Dorne and you deserve to have friends around you as you make this transition. The boat will leave when you arrive.
I await your arrival with a heavy heart.
Your uncle,
Prince Doran, Lord of Sunspear, Prince of Dorne.
Instantly, he read the letter over again before pulling free the other piece of parchment and seeing that it was indeed a pardon affixed with the king's seal. It had hurt his uncle to ask for that pardon and yet he had. As to his father, he would have preferred that Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne would have been put to death but with them in Essos, well, he would go about solidifying his position and deal with them should they ever rear their heads.
Closing his eyes for a second, Josmyn opened them to see that it was truly happening. And it was. He was the Crown Prince of Dorne. Whereas once he'd just wanted the title Prince, now it seems he was going to be ruling. And he was no long a bastard. He was a true member of House Martell. It felt as good as he thought it would. Once he landed in Sunspear, Josmyn would gather his sisters to them and declare them legitimate as well and give them the choice lands in Dorne. With the “plague” that had swept across Dorne, there was no doubt that there were openings and fortresses that needed new nobility. It would also be a chance for House Martell to establish a more direct control over their bannermen in case war was brought to them, either by the Lannisters or his father. No doubt, Prince Doran would agree with his plan.
Packing up all of his belongings, the Dornishman found that all of what he had that did not belong to the Night's Watch could fit into one bag. His armor and furs, he kept though he vowed to send a caravan of supplies to the Wall once he'd established his rule. As he glanced around his room one last time, Josmyn grinned broadly, happy to be leaving the place once and for all.
Exiting his room, the newly christened Martell turned and ventured towards the quarters of his friend Florien. He would rouse him and they could be off for a new life together tonight. And what a sweet life it would be.
(Word Count: 4358)
