The Early Dornishman Catches the Worm

Elyas smiled. "Calm down lad. We are both Lords of Dorne. You are well entitled to speak to me without fearing you are wasting my time. You are clearly not familiar with the ways of court if you feel that making me wait two minutes is rude. When I was younger and serving Princess Sarella as a sworn sword, I saw men go days seeking an audience with her. She made them wait not out of spite, but simply because there were so many begging audience with her." Elyas shrugged. "In any event, there is no line of complainers asking for my time, and I have already told you that I do not mind spending a few more minutes here before I part for Vaith. My wife has waited for me two days, she can bear to wait a few more minutes I'm sure. As can I." Elyas looked pensive for a moment as he thought of Catelyn before returning to the matters at hand. 

"So, what is it you wish to speak to me about? We might as well speak now, given that your lady mother has taken her leave to give us the opportunity to do so."

"Has your mother never spoken to you of the responsibilities of Lordship?" Elyas asked, genuinely surprised. "Lordship in the Principality of Dorne is the most distinguished form of service to House Martell, and bears with it the greatest amount of responsibility. You must balance the needs of those under your lordship with those of Dorne. A good Lord should always strive to improve his holdings, the quality and quantity of his levies, and ensure the needs of his smallfolk are met. When a lord passes to the gods, he ought to leave his demesne in a better state than when he acceded to it. That is how one best serves house Martell in times of peace as a Lord sworn to Sunspear."

"As for war, let nobody trick you into believing it is glorious. It is a struggle for life. The life of the independence of this principality as much as your own." Elyas paused. "You will kill men, and when you watch life flow from their veins despoiling the ground before you, you should feel no pity. They would have done worse to you. I watched your Targaryen kin burn thousands alive in the Rainwood, my sister among them. I have seen a dragon rip my uncle's arm from his shoulder and watched it burn my best friend alive as he saved my life. Where is the glory in that? Have you ever heard a bard sing songs of Ser Aurane Dalt?" Elyas looked extremely bitter as he recounted his life's experience in battle. "If you live for battle, you will live at the Stranger's side, never far from his touch, and eventually he will see fit to take you rather than your foe. I stand before you only because others have stared him in the eye to save my life. The first time it was Ser Aurane Dalt. The second time it was my wife and my cousin, Ser Olyvar. There will not be a third occasion."

Elyas looked at the lad grimly. "Never enter a fight because it strikes your fancy to. Fight because you must, and then at least your death will have some meaning should you fall."

Elyas nodded. "That is good. If you wish to learn more I have no doubt that Prince Trystane would be willing to speak to his brother's son about ruling. He is something of an authority on the subject, along with his lady mother. I would advise speaking to the Prince however. You will receive a warmer welcome from him."

"I am a Targaryen as well." Elyas replied. "But by blood only. Unlike your lady mother I strive to live as a Dornishman here. I told you what I did not for you to pity me or apologize for the actions of those your mother knew, but so that if you ever face a foe of your blood you do not hesitate to strike a killing blow. There will come I time I suspect, when you will be forced to choose between the sun and the dragon that mark your shield."

"Good day, Lord Morys." Elyas replied, favouring his mother with only a cool nod. He turned and made his way to the blue and gold dragon which had been watching him for some time now.

"You don't have to apologize for that. I just mistrust that man. He has no love for my family, despite being my kin." She looked up into her son's face. "You are a Martell and a lord of Dorne, but you fly a dragon, and you must never ever allow yourself to forget that you are a Targaryen too. Lord Elyas would have you forget thatTargaryen heritage, my sweet."

She favored him with a small smile. He had always been such a serious boy and seemed to only grow more so since the death of his little brother. It was good to see him laugh. "I am very glad to hear that, Morys, and your tutors have given you excellent advice so I shan't forbid you to speak with him, but I will ask that you exercise caution as his goals are very different from ours." She patted his hand reassuringly. "You will make an excellent lord of Whitesand. Of that I am certain. Que...your father would be proud of you."

Visenya sighed. He was a dreamer, perhaps better suited to being a second son, but she was determined he would grow out of it and fulfill his true potential. Believing was the first step to succeeding after all. "Well, Sunspear is a lot bigger and older than Whitesand. You were already born by the time the building of it was finished." She almost brought up Aenar, and how the family had shifted there just before he was born, but she didn't. Morys was still sensitive about his brother's death.

They began to climb the stairs leading to the airy, open promenades that linked the closed areas of the palace. "What will you do now, my dear? Resume your studies? You should let yourself take a break. Perhaps go into the city?"

"Of course relaxation would be fun," Visenya said, managing not to roll her eyes.

"Come in here," she directed, gesturing for him to follow her into a small unoccupied antechamber. A servant appeared and hastened to pour from the tall container of sharab, which was so deliciously cool that the glasses began to bead with moisture almost immediately once the drunk was poured. Chunks of imported ice clanked against the rim of the glass. Visenya say at a table that had clearly been arranged for them before hand and set with small plates of food. "Now, my son, let us talk of your future. You are reaching the age of majority and will be Lord in your own right. I will endeavor to help you as much as I can, since I have been handling the estate on my own these past ten years, but soon the time will come when you must do it in your own." She selected a stuffed grape leaf and gestures with it as she spoke before popping it into her mouth. "Tell me, do you have plabs, my sweet?" She chewed leisurely, watching his face with some small amusement.

She nodded. He had a grand vision but lacked a path. "And what do you propose to do with the Stormlands?"

His response, wordy and overwrought as it was, brought a smile to Visenya's face. "Very good, Morys. Whitesand is also on the coast. Perhaps you should speak to traders and shipwrights to learn what must be put into a navy." She had no doubt that Morys was still only half a man, but he was headed in the right direction. She had even seen a hint of fire beneath his quiet thoughtful exterior.

"There is one other matter, my sweet child. The making of you into a man." She smiled at him pleasantly and sopped her piece of bread in spice and oil before bringing it to her lips.

"Yes, a man. The event is of vital importance," Visenya said with more than a little irritation in her voice. "When I was your age, I was married and carrying your sister." She carefully neglected to mention that the pregnancy had come first. She rarely dwelled on the fact that she had really only known and loved her first husband for less than a year. "I don't mean for you to get married just yet (unless a suitable girl happened to show up) but you should experience the union of man and woman. I will accept no protest." Visenya drank and ate as she spoke as though she were discussing the weather and not her son's virginity.