Post by Josmyn Martell on Aug 8, 2012 17:34:28 GMT -5
It was mid-morning and the sun was bright already. Compared to the weather he'd been used to, Josmyn was burning up and he loved every moment of it. There was a warm breeze that blew through his hair and air smelled of the salt from the sea that the ship glided through. Their journey had been blessed by favorable winds and calm seas. It seemed that even the elements wanted Josmyn Nymeros Martell home safely in Sunspear. As he squinted, his eyes could make out a grand welcoming party on the docks, just a few hundred meters away. His stomach squirmed in excitement as he realized that homecoming he'd desired since the very moment he'd been told he was going to the Wall was upon him.
Giving his garb a quick glance, the Dornishman could not help but smile as he saw colors other than that of black covering his body. Since this was a joyous day and not one that required armor, Josmyn wore a silk doublet of Martell orange with slashed sleeves revealing the white under layer. His breeches were a cream color, which served to accent the orange of his doublet and also the dark brown leather of his boots. A red silk surcoat completed the outfit, with golden scrollwork embroidery along all the borders and gold clasps securing the garment. Around his neck and on his fingers, he wore no jewelry for none had been provided for him and on his race to Sunspear he had not thought it appropriate to go shopping for jewels. However, at his waist was a red enameled scabbard that held the sword his own father, the now exiled Prince Oberyn Martell had given him as he left to serve on the Wall. In his right hand, he held the spear he'd gotten from his father as well, as the spear was a symbol of his house and the chosen weapon of the Dornish.
Each second drew him closer to his ancestral home. Part of him mused that High Hermitage was also an ancestral home of his, and one that he had felt infinitely more welcome in. However, being of High Hermitage had not gotten him home from the Wall. It had been the power and respect that House Martell commanded that he had been allowed to return to Dorne. Granted, it was also because of them that he had gone to that frosty bastion in the first place but what mattered now was that he had warm air blowing on his face.
The wood about him let out loud creaks and moans as the sailors maneuvered the ship into port, dropping anchor and letting the wind out of the sails as the oarsmen controlled their approach to the dock. Soon, mooring lines were tossed over the rails and Josmyn stood ready to take his first step back into Dorne as its new crown prince. The boat's captain looked to him, giving him a small bow and a nod. Josmyn returned his smile with a nod of his head and reached into the money pouch he'd tied to the inside of leather belt with his left hand, plucking out ten golden dragons. He pressed the gold into the ocean-going man's hands.
“A reward for you and your men for returning me so quickly to my homeland. I thank you, good captain. May you always have favorable tides and smooth seas,” the prince bid as he turned to step off the boat. His companions would leave on their own time and they would, of course, be welcomed in Sunspear but this gathering, this welcome, was one for family. Likely the party waiting for him would only be his uncle, his sisters, and their servants and attendants. There would be a grand welcoming feast later that night, with nobles and his companions would be welcome to join him then. However, first, he needed to see those whose blood he shared without outsiders, for no matter how close and dear his friends might be to him, they were not family.
When he stepped onto the wood of the dock, his dark eyes, the eyes he'd inherited from his father, locked onto five people stepping towards him. All four of them wore matching red silk and cloth-of-gold dresses. In the middle was a man in gold robes embroidered with a red sun, his once dark hair now salted with gray. Indeed, it seemed that Prince Doran had not born the passing of his sons and his daughter's betrayal well. His sisters all bore grand smiles and Josmyn could not help but return them. He was home after all. What better reason would there ever be to smile? His uncle wore only the face of a world weary man that had just lost all his children. That he could not fathom but he could not find any true sympathy for the man that had exiled him.
When Josmyn got close enough to his uncle, the younger man instantly dropped to his knees, the ironwood shaft of his spear coming down to rest over both of his palms. The prince raised the weapon over his head just slightly and bowed his head.
“My lord uncle, once you sent me away with this spear to defend a Wall of ice. Now I return to use this same weapon to defend my family and serve your will,” he said clearly, his voice even and measured despite the fact that anger threatened to bubble up. Reminding himself that taking the black had been a scheme of his father, Josmyn dared to glance up to see his uncle offer a small smile.
“Rise, Prince Josmyn Nymeros Martell. Rise and take your rightful place as my heir. Though it was your own father that conspired against me, you supported my rule when it my command that sent you to the Wall. For this you have shone yourself to be a true member of this family and the one I will entrust Dorne to once I am gone,” Prince Doran said, motioning for Josmyn to stand. He did so slowly, his eyes never leaving his uncle, not even to glance at his sisters. This was a crucial moment. Slowly, Doran took a step towards him and embraced him. The embrace was not an overly warm one but it was not hostile either. Not long after, his uncle pulled back and nodded to his sisters.
In an instant, they all swarmed to their brother, hugs and kisses on the cheek being exchanged with great abandon. Whispered words that none could make out filled the air and there was much rejoicing. Even his stern faced uncle managed to crack a smile at the reunion of kin. Soon, though,they settled amongst themselves, with promises to tell tales of years past and Josmyn looked back to Prince Doran to see what the next order of business would be. For while the day was a joyous one, there were matters of state that had to be attended to. What exactly those matters were, well, that was up to the still ruling Prince.
“Come, Josmyn. We must adjourn to the Tower of the Sun. I will send horses for whatever companions you have brought with you but there are things we must discuss, just you and I,” Doran stated, turning to carriages that awaited them. His sisters climbed into one and though Josmyn would have prefered to ride a horse, not been pulled in a carriage, he obliged his uncle and followed him into a separate one. His spear was handed to one of the drivers who secured it on the outside of the coach.
Once both noblemen were settled, Doran gave a quick hand signal and set them upon their journey. Josmyn's dark eyes flickered to the happenings out in the city as they were pulled by. Indeed, it had been far too long since he'd seen this number of people together and this day, the market was not even crowded.
His thoughts were broken by the sound of his uncle speaking again. Josmyn focused himself on Prince Doran, wondering what else they had to discuss.
“Josmyn...When my sons died...when they were murdered by Oberyn and Arianne, my will to live and rule died with them. I have brought you down from the Wall, not only to be my heir but to rule Dorne in my stead. With the support of your sisters, you shall be Dorne's Prince and the Lord of Sunspear. I... I can no longer bear these weights,” his uncle said, a cough coming unbidden. His eyes fixed upon Josmyn's until Josmyn bowed his head, this time truly shocked by what he'd heard. He'd known he was going to be crown prince and heir but ruling prince and lord? His sisters had failed to mention that or perhaps, this was something his uncle had chosen to keep close to his chest. Whatever it was, Josmyn knew that now, he would be able to put his plans into place. With his sisters and friends along with the Dornish forces under his command, Josmyn would control Dorne with ease.
However, he still had to make it seem like he was just a loyal servant to his uncle.
“But, Prince Doran, you are still strong enough to rule. No doubt you have been hurt by what has occurred,” Josmyn allowed a grimace to cross his face, “I am but a man that has been serving along a frozen stretch of land. With your help, I could be a proper ruler but not this soon. Just a week and a half ago, I was but a ranger beyond the Wall.”
Doran nodded and rested a hand on his nephew's shoulder.
“And that attitude is how I know you are fit to lead. When you found out about Oberyn, you could have kept quiet. Your vows told you to keep quiet and yet you defied them in order to make sure that he would not get away with such a heinous crime. You sought to protect your family, a family that had for all intents and purposes forsaken you. That shows your nobility and that you are to be the one to follow me. At tonight's feast, I will announce my retirement to the Water Gardens and you will be given full rule of Dorne. You will sit in the Spear Seat, Josmyn,” the older man pronounced.
The younger man opened his mouth but shut it again in order to just nod his agreement. He did not trust himself to say anything else. Josmyn had been prepared to live for years as just crown prince and heir but the true power was being handed to him. Oh, his sisters rewards would be great indeed. He'd have to speak with them each to determine what it was they wanted but whatever it was, they would get it and more. Because of them, he would sit in the Spear Seat and rule all of Dorne.
“As you wish, uncle. I shall do my best to live up to this great honor that you are bestowing on me,” he answered. As he thought back on their conversation, he found it interesting though not surprising that his uncle only called his father by his given name and not his birth title. It seemed his father was well and truly disowned.
As the carriage slowed at first, then halted, Josmyn looked out to see the grand golden domed Tower of the Sun and in that instance, he was truly home. Home with power that he'd never even though he could have. When he was younger, yes, he'd dreamed of being a Prince but only in title like his father. He'd never desired anything more than simply to be a Martell and hold a title. Now he was, taking the reins of power from his uncle to rule over all of Dorne. It was interesting how life and fate had ways of twisting themselves about. As they stepped out from the carriage, Josmyn smiled up at the sky and the sun, the symbol of his house. Today was truly a great day.
Giving his garb a quick glance, the Dornishman could not help but smile as he saw colors other than that of black covering his body. Since this was a joyous day and not one that required armor, Josmyn wore a silk doublet of Martell orange with slashed sleeves revealing the white under layer. His breeches were a cream color, which served to accent the orange of his doublet and also the dark brown leather of his boots. A red silk surcoat completed the outfit, with golden scrollwork embroidery along all the borders and gold clasps securing the garment. Around his neck and on his fingers, he wore no jewelry for none had been provided for him and on his race to Sunspear he had not thought it appropriate to go shopping for jewels. However, at his waist was a red enameled scabbard that held the sword his own father, the now exiled Prince Oberyn Martell had given him as he left to serve on the Wall. In his right hand, he held the spear he'd gotten from his father as well, as the spear was a symbol of his house and the chosen weapon of the Dornish.
Each second drew him closer to his ancestral home. Part of him mused that High Hermitage was also an ancestral home of his, and one that he had felt infinitely more welcome in. However, being of High Hermitage had not gotten him home from the Wall. It had been the power and respect that House Martell commanded that he had been allowed to return to Dorne. Granted, it was also because of them that he had gone to that frosty bastion in the first place but what mattered now was that he had warm air blowing on his face.
The wood about him let out loud creaks and moans as the sailors maneuvered the ship into port, dropping anchor and letting the wind out of the sails as the oarsmen controlled their approach to the dock. Soon, mooring lines were tossed over the rails and Josmyn stood ready to take his first step back into Dorne as its new crown prince. The boat's captain looked to him, giving him a small bow and a nod. Josmyn returned his smile with a nod of his head and reached into the money pouch he'd tied to the inside of leather belt with his left hand, plucking out ten golden dragons. He pressed the gold into the ocean-going man's hands.
“A reward for you and your men for returning me so quickly to my homeland. I thank you, good captain. May you always have favorable tides and smooth seas,” the prince bid as he turned to step off the boat. His companions would leave on their own time and they would, of course, be welcomed in Sunspear but this gathering, this welcome, was one for family. Likely the party waiting for him would only be his uncle, his sisters, and their servants and attendants. There would be a grand welcoming feast later that night, with nobles and his companions would be welcome to join him then. However, first, he needed to see those whose blood he shared without outsiders, for no matter how close and dear his friends might be to him, they were not family.
When he stepped onto the wood of the dock, his dark eyes, the eyes he'd inherited from his father, locked onto five people stepping towards him. All four of them wore matching red silk and cloth-of-gold dresses. In the middle was a man in gold robes embroidered with a red sun, his once dark hair now salted with gray. Indeed, it seemed that Prince Doran had not born the passing of his sons and his daughter's betrayal well. His sisters all bore grand smiles and Josmyn could not help but return them. He was home after all. What better reason would there ever be to smile? His uncle wore only the face of a world weary man that had just lost all his children. That he could not fathom but he could not find any true sympathy for the man that had exiled him.
When Josmyn got close enough to his uncle, the younger man instantly dropped to his knees, the ironwood shaft of his spear coming down to rest over both of his palms. The prince raised the weapon over his head just slightly and bowed his head.
“My lord uncle, once you sent me away with this spear to defend a Wall of ice. Now I return to use this same weapon to defend my family and serve your will,” he said clearly, his voice even and measured despite the fact that anger threatened to bubble up. Reminding himself that taking the black had been a scheme of his father, Josmyn dared to glance up to see his uncle offer a small smile.
“Rise, Prince Josmyn Nymeros Martell. Rise and take your rightful place as my heir. Though it was your own father that conspired against me, you supported my rule when it my command that sent you to the Wall. For this you have shone yourself to be a true member of this family and the one I will entrust Dorne to once I am gone,” Prince Doran said, motioning for Josmyn to stand. He did so slowly, his eyes never leaving his uncle, not even to glance at his sisters. This was a crucial moment. Slowly, Doran took a step towards him and embraced him. The embrace was not an overly warm one but it was not hostile either. Not long after, his uncle pulled back and nodded to his sisters.
In an instant, they all swarmed to their brother, hugs and kisses on the cheek being exchanged with great abandon. Whispered words that none could make out filled the air and there was much rejoicing. Even his stern faced uncle managed to crack a smile at the reunion of kin. Soon, though,they settled amongst themselves, with promises to tell tales of years past and Josmyn looked back to Prince Doran to see what the next order of business would be. For while the day was a joyous one, there were matters of state that had to be attended to. What exactly those matters were, well, that was up to the still ruling Prince.
“Come, Josmyn. We must adjourn to the Tower of the Sun. I will send horses for whatever companions you have brought with you but there are things we must discuss, just you and I,” Doran stated, turning to carriages that awaited them. His sisters climbed into one and though Josmyn would have prefered to ride a horse, not been pulled in a carriage, he obliged his uncle and followed him into a separate one. His spear was handed to one of the drivers who secured it on the outside of the coach.
Once both noblemen were settled, Doran gave a quick hand signal and set them upon their journey. Josmyn's dark eyes flickered to the happenings out in the city as they were pulled by. Indeed, it had been far too long since he'd seen this number of people together and this day, the market was not even crowded.
His thoughts were broken by the sound of his uncle speaking again. Josmyn focused himself on Prince Doran, wondering what else they had to discuss.
“Josmyn...When my sons died...when they were murdered by Oberyn and Arianne, my will to live and rule died with them. I have brought you down from the Wall, not only to be my heir but to rule Dorne in my stead. With the support of your sisters, you shall be Dorne's Prince and the Lord of Sunspear. I... I can no longer bear these weights,” his uncle said, a cough coming unbidden. His eyes fixed upon Josmyn's until Josmyn bowed his head, this time truly shocked by what he'd heard. He'd known he was going to be crown prince and heir but ruling prince and lord? His sisters had failed to mention that or perhaps, this was something his uncle had chosen to keep close to his chest. Whatever it was, Josmyn knew that now, he would be able to put his plans into place. With his sisters and friends along with the Dornish forces under his command, Josmyn would control Dorne with ease.
However, he still had to make it seem like he was just a loyal servant to his uncle.
“But, Prince Doran, you are still strong enough to rule. No doubt you have been hurt by what has occurred,” Josmyn allowed a grimace to cross his face, “I am but a man that has been serving along a frozen stretch of land. With your help, I could be a proper ruler but not this soon. Just a week and a half ago, I was but a ranger beyond the Wall.”
Doran nodded and rested a hand on his nephew's shoulder.
“And that attitude is how I know you are fit to lead. When you found out about Oberyn, you could have kept quiet. Your vows told you to keep quiet and yet you defied them in order to make sure that he would not get away with such a heinous crime. You sought to protect your family, a family that had for all intents and purposes forsaken you. That shows your nobility and that you are to be the one to follow me. At tonight's feast, I will announce my retirement to the Water Gardens and you will be given full rule of Dorne. You will sit in the Spear Seat, Josmyn,” the older man pronounced.
The younger man opened his mouth but shut it again in order to just nod his agreement. He did not trust himself to say anything else. Josmyn had been prepared to live for years as just crown prince and heir but the true power was being handed to him. Oh, his sisters rewards would be great indeed. He'd have to speak with them each to determine what it was they wanted but whatever it was, they would get it and more. Because of them, he would sit in the Spear Seat and rule all of Dorne.
“As you wish, uncle. I shall do my best to live up to this great honor that you are bestowing on me,” he answered. As he thought back on their conversation, he found it interesting though not surprising that his uncle only called his father by his given name and not his birth title. It seemed his father was well and truly disowned.
As the carriage slowed at first, then halted, Josmyn looked out to see the grand golden domed Tower of the Sun and in that instance, he was truly home. Home with power that he'd never even though he could have. When he was younger, yes, he'd dreamed of being a Prince but only in title like his father. He'd never desired anything more than simply to be a Martell and hold a title. Now he was, taking the reins of power from his uncle to rule over all of Dorne. It was interesting how life and fate had ways of twisting themselves about. As they stepped out from the carriage, Josmyn smiled up at the sky and the sun, the symbol of his house. Today was truly a great day.
