Arianne's full lips twisted down, forming a severe frown. The weathered man in front of her shifted nervously, but could do nothing else. He brought the tidings that he brought. No amount of displeasure from the olive-skinned beauty could twist his news into something new.
"There are no boats," the man said again, hoping that repeating himself would dull her frustration. He had introduced himself as Jasim, a man deep in the fifth decade of his life with the hands of a smallfolk— blistered, bitten, used. "Only one crew is in our port, and their next stop is Sunspear."
"That will not do." She was putting it mildly. Venturing home would undo all the work she had put in so far. "We will go by land, then. The Boneway will serve us as well as it served my ancestors. Perhaps Weeping Town will bring better luck when we reach the Stormlands."
Jasim opened his mouth a fraction wider, catching himself before he spoke what was on his mind. He glanced around the location of their talk, near the center of Wylmouth where the town flowed around them. Arianne had with her twelve soldiers, all from her father's household, clad in the Dornish style of light armor with wrapped heads. Jasim's eyes counted each of them before returning to Arianne.
"Lady Martell, the pass is treacherous. It is slow and dangerous for any group. If you wait a mere week, I'm sure a ship will arrive and offer you a berth."
"That is not an option," Arianne denied him smoothly. Her chin drifted toward her shoulder, brushing the coarse traveling garb she had wrapped herself in. "We will restock our supplies here. I will also require a guide. Someone who is familiar with the region and the path we will be taking, preferably the sort of person who can move quickly. The pace I plan will not do well by the old or infirm."
"There is House Wyl," Jasim said. "They have many skilled hands, and would surely provide you with more men."
"My retinue will do," Arianne said firmly. "I would prefer one of the smallfolk. I find that they do better work."
That, and they were less likely to wisen up to how unusual her journey was. Arianne was accompanied by a fraction of the men that should have been with her on a trip outside her own kingdom. Even for a smallfolk man as wizened as Jasim, who had clearly caught that something was strange, there was naught he could do but offer easily-ignored suggestions. Not like House Wyl, who would trap her in a lush cell the moment she appeared, holding her until some family member could be sent on a fetching mission. Perhaps it would be her uncle, Prince Oberyn again. Or her father would send the hulking guard captain Areo Hotah. It could be any one of his retainers and allies, the important part was that Arianne would be dragged back, doomed to sit helplessly through another wave of leering men thrice her age. The thought passed a shudder through her.
"There is one who comes to mind…" Jasim said.
Arianne liked the gleam in the man's eye. It seemed he'd had an idea, which should spell the end of his resistances. "Tell me of this one."
"It would be easier to show you, Lady Martell. He is somewhat difficult to find, but I know where he spends the most time. Would you like me to bring him to you?"
"Take me to him," Arianne commanded instead. "A short walk might prepare my legs for the journey ahead."
She split the men who accompanied her. They were well-trained, loyal enough to her father that they didn't dispute her orders, even the ones that they considered unwise. They were so loyal that they had ridden out of Sunspear with her the moment they saw Doran Martell's seal on the letter Arianne carried, never checking if the man had so much as seen the paper. Or if he'd seen his seal matrix recently.
There was little need for the men within town, so Arianne brought only two with her to accompany Jasim, scattering the rest to purchase food and waterskins for the journey. Soon she was walking down a muddy road. Jasim moved ahead of her in silence, his back subtly bent from years of labor. Her guards walked behind her. The younger of the two kept a resting hand on the hilt of his curved sword, while the more experienced of them swung his arms loosely at his side. Both watched the locals attentively enough that Arianne felt safe to let her mind wander.
She was curious what this guide might be like. Her guess was similar to Jasim, a man advanced in age and worn by nature's rigors. He was difficult to find, passing time outside of the town. A hunter, perhaps, or a forager? Either of those would know the region best.
For a moment, Arianne entertained the idea of a roguish outlaw appearing from the bushes, declaring that the entire thing was a trap before stealing her into his clutches. She giggled to herself. He would at least be better to look at than the men her father called to see her. The memory of Walder Frey's pockmarked head never failed to call her last meal to the back of her throat.
"He'll be by the river. He enjoys the quiet," Jasim said.
Arianne perked up. While she was lost in thought they had passed the last of the squat buildings. The muddy road turned into a narrow path through sparse grass. Jasim took them beyond a batch of trees that cleared almost as soon as they started, bringing the group to a tranquil clearing.
Jasim said nothing, for there was only one man in the clearing, and it was obvious who they were there for; Arianne said nothing because her voice had fled faster than she was attempting to escape Dorne.
He was young, perhaps no older than her, though his eyes made him look somehow ancient. They reminded her of the waters of the Greenblood, the slow-moving emerald river south of Sunspear. He had recently come out of the water. His shirt was beside him on the sand, while water was lodged in the grooves of his chiseled torso. A light breeze scattered his hair across his forehead. His head turned to them slowly, aware of their arrival but in no rush. He saw Jasim first, looking past the man with a flash of recognition, and then his eyes were on her.
Arianne was not thinking of hideous Walder Frey any longer.
O-O-O
"You want me to be your guide."
Perseus. That was his name. He'd told her that most people used Percy, inviting her to choose whichever she wished. Her guards had not been well pleased with his forwardness. Arianne could not have been more delighted.
They had relocated to a setting more befitting of the business they had. Wylmouth possessed two inns, one with silk sheets and one that didn't bother fixing windows because everyone knew another fight would break the glass again soon enough. Needless to say, Arianne's party resided at the former.
A steaming goat dish sat between them, the edges of the plate ringed with peppers and a thick red sauce drizzled across the meat. Arianne tapped her finger on the corner of the plate.
"We aren't familiar with the area," she said. "We'll find ourselves lost should we forge toward the heart of the Boneway on our own. Local paths wind together and twist in such confusing ways. I would have preferred a boat, but circumstances had other ideas."
Percy looked thoughtful. "I can get you into the mountains no problem. Once the road crosses the river, I'm out of my element. I've never crossed the pass."
"That's to be expected," Arianne said. "Only a merchant would brave the Boneway. Lead us until you cannot, then turn back. You will be paid well for your efforts."
Arianne leaned forward, pressing her curves against the table. If she was in the finery she wore back at court there was no man who would not be drawn in. As it was, in her hard leather travel-wear, the effect was significantly reduced, though she could not help trying anyway. Percy's tall cheekbones and his firm, forthright jaw called out to her eyes. She wished to give his own eyes a view in return.
"I'll do it," Percy said.
Given that he was looking only at her face, it was unlikely that her charms were what had won the answer. A pity.
"I've not given an offer yet," Arianne said. "You should have waited for me to name how much silver I was willing to part with. Why agree so easily?"
Percy finally touched the food, hauling a portion of goat onto one of the smaller plates that had been provided for each of them. He answered before digging in.
"It seems like you could use my help."
Two of Arianne's guards were sitting with them. A man with a bristly beard full of white muttered something, shifting testily in his seat. His fellow across from him was not better pleased. They perceived it as a smallfolk boy condescending to the princess of Dorne, and only the princess's inaction led them to hold their tongues.
Percy disregarded everything except his food, eating as if he was alone at the table. No matter how hard Arianne stared at him she could not decide if his words had been a jape. In the end she chose to laugh, while taking the sentiment seriously.
"Well, then, Perseus. Your help is appreciated."
Percy nodded, naturally accepting that of course it would be.
O-O-O
Arianne had not anticipated a send-off party to form when they left Wylmouth, but it was not outside her expectations. She was the Princess of Dorne after all, no matter how much that fact seemed to frustrate her father.
The surprise on the cloudy morning of their departure was that the people who gathered weren't braving the brisk wind for her at all. They were there for the smallfolk guide she hired with two Silver Stags.
A girl forged from the rest of the group, grabbing onto the knee of Percy's pants. With her rusty hair and dash of freckles, she didn't look bad, Arianne mused. Worth sharing a bed with, provided she was bathed beforehand.
"Come back safely." The way the girl batted her eyes was crude in Arianne's opinion, but not everyone could be as skilled in the ways of seduction as she. "I'll pray to the Seven for your safety."
The girl went on her tiptoes and stretched her head as far as possible, kissing Percy's knuckle. That was the extent of her courage. A second later she'd vanished back amongst the bodies, giggling while she fled.
"It's not like I'm going to war," Percy said.
The girl was already gone, so it was Jasim that answered, the smallfolk man Arianne had dealt with the day before. He was frowning.
"The roads are dangerous," Jasim said. "Outlaws have been braver than they ought to be. I know not what has emboldened them. I beg of you, be safe, Lady Martell."
"I don't intend for my journey to end so soon," Arianne said. "We will be leaving now. Say the remaining goodbyes quickly."
As it turned out, Percy had already handled what he needed to. He waved to those watching them as the group spurred their horses.
Town slipped away and soon they counted the Wyl's flowing water as their only companion. Whatever path Percy led them along veered away from the shore occasionally, but always returned soon after. Arianne mused that if it remained so simple perhaps a guide had not been necessary at all.
It did not, however, and Percy's guidance quickly became crucial. What they had been following, which could be called a road, ended abruptly. Percy led them into a sharp turn, venturing onto much narrower trails.
They wrapped a distance south, beneath bristled trees that allowed the sun peek between their branches. Shadows danced as the pack of hale sand steeds galloped, their hooves crushing small bushes and parting tendrils of brownish grass.
The terrain slowed their pace. The ground could not be trusted to be flat, and a single rodent's den could take a horse's ankle as easily as a knife parting butter. They had only two horses spare now that Percy had been added to her retinue, and each mount measured its price in golden dragons. There was little option but to move carefully. Though Arianne noticed that Percy seemed immune to what troubled the other men. He guided his horse as if the two of them were halves of the same body. When she spoke the thought, he had laughed loudly.
By the time the sun settled on the horizon and the sky turned red, they had reunited with the river. Arianne almost sighed with relief. She was a true Dornishwoman. Pitching her tent beneath branches would never suit her as well as the open sky.
The journey from Sunspear to Wylmouth was measured in many leagues, reaching almost a fortnight. Her men were practiced in their routine by now. Without a word, Andren worked to erect her personal tent, while the sandy-haired Daris started a fire to cook upon. Ser Corren Wells, the leader of those Arianne had brought, oversaw the process with a stern look on his bearded face.
No matter how efficient they became, the process always bored Arianne, who was left to wait until they finished. She usually found a place of relative comfort and lost herself as well as she could inside a daydream. One of her favorite pastimes was to imagine Edmure Tully and the strong comely features he might possess, but tonight he kept coming out with green eyes and windswept black hair, so she gave it up as a lost cause.
Arianne pulled her traveling cloak tighter around herself, grateful for its warmth in spite of the way its leather edges bit her skin, and approached the man helping the horses drink their fill.
O-O-O
Percy slid his hand along the smooth, mottled flank of the stallion he'd ridden. The horse snorted as it lapped up gulps of river water. Percy couldn't speak to horses like he used to — not yet — but he they definitely shared a deeper understanding. All day as they rode his mount had followed directions before he'd given them, like they shared a single mind. He was taking care of all the horses now, keeping them calm as they drank and rested for the following day.
"You have a talent."
It was easy to tell who said it. There was only one woman in the group, and even if they'd been back in Wylmouth Arianne Martell's husky purr was unlike any voice he'd heard.
"Horses and I have always gotten along," Percy said. He bent his fingers, more scratching than petting, and the stallion stamped its foot happily.
"You've had many opportunities to work with horses?"
"Some. It's been a while."
He looked back and saw that Arianne had chosen a nearby rock for a seat, pulling her feet onto it and wrapping her arms around her legs. She was small. Percy was pretty sure she didn't even reach five foot, with curly hair and big soft eyes. Arianne had full and dark lips, lengthy lashes, and skin a few shades darker than Percy's deep tan. Her body was almost second to none, even among the women Percy had met. If she told him that she was a daughter of Aphrodite he would've told her she took after her mom.
"Perhaps I'll have to keep you," Arianne said, her voice teasing. "You may not know the way to the Riverlands, but the horses will need care for the entire journey. You're clearly a defter hand than my men."
"You're going to the Riverlands?"
"Yes. An appointment with a lord paramount's son awaits." Arianne sniffed. "It remains to be seen whether he'll meet my standards, but I have some hope."
"That's a long journey. Three months, even on horses as good as these. If you find a boat it would still be more than a month. Then you'd have the ride from Maidenpool to deal with."
Arianne leaned forward on her rock. "Did merchants in Wylmouth teach you such things? You speak of Westeros more knowledgeably than some knights."
"Kind of." Percy rested his weight backwards against the stallion's flank. The horse supported him without complaint. "A woman named Dyanna taught me. Most of the lessons were about the language, speaking and writing it, but she squeezed in some geography."
"A rare thing among the smallfolk. You continue to prove interesting."
"I'm glad to hear it," Percy said dryly.
"Most men would be." There was a purr in Arianne's voice, making her sound even better than she usually did. If he'd seen less of the world Percy might've gotten shivers.
A yell informed them that the evening's meal had been finished. Arianne abandoned her self-imposed post to take her serving, while Percy led the horses to the trees, tying them in place.
O-O-O
The next evening found the group in a similar spot, this time camping on the sandy beach of a bend in the river. Hunger had been fended off and light was still in the sky, granting the soldiers a chance to spar and keep their skills sharp.
They had formed a loose circle. Two men would meet in the middle holding spears or swords and exchange blows. Instead of watching, some had chosen to practice on their own, swinging their blades at imaginary enemies. Percy watched with his boots off and his toes in the water, reclining on his hands.
"Entranced?" Arinane asked.
She was sitting close by on the beach, drawing shapes in the sand with a slow-moving idle finger. She had bathed prior to dinner. Her hair was still wet, stuck to her neck in places. For the night she had exchanged her typical travelwear for a dress made of silk. It was modest for a princess, slightly worse in quality than the one Dyanna wore for she and Percy's first night. That hardly mattered on Arianne. Her body made the dress into a work of art.
"It must be your first time seeing warriors of a noble house in action," Arianne said. "What do you think?"
Percy watched an exchange of blows, one man taking the other's blade on his shield and replying with a lunging stab.
"Sloppy," Percy said.
Arianne squinted, bringing her lashes together. A moment later she was laughing.
"Every man thinks himself Barristan Selmy before he's held a sword, I suppose. You are a fool, Perseus." Arianne tilted her dusky body forward, lowering the neck of the dress that poorly veiled her round breasts. "Fortunately, you will find that fools are a weakness of mine, only beaten by those who are dark and dangerous."
Beauty wasn't the only thing Arianne shared with the goddess of love and her daughters. She was amorous. When she felt attraction, she didn't try hard to hide it, and she definitely didn't shy away from dropping hints. Changing into a dress for one night wasn't an accident. It was a way to leave an impression.
Percy turned his chin to her and searched her body. She was barefoot, her skin uncovered almost up to the knees, smooth and hairless. Her figure included wide hips and a thin waist perfect for sliding an arm around. She had breasts that were, frankly, huge, and her ass wasn't any less endowed. As his eyes crossed her neck, Percy looked at her face and confirmed what he already knew. Her appearance didn't have anything that could be considered a flaw.
Arianne wasn't oblivious to the way she'd just been inspected. Without the night getting any colder, her arms broke out in goosebumps.
"I guess there's worse things to be than a fool," Percy said.
O-O-O
The day that followed found Arianne back in her travel garb. Due to the season and the region within Dorne, her headwrap was unneeded, left around her neck like a scarf. Percy's mount moved beside hers, cantering behind the soldiers as he allowed the men to lead the way.
The group had parted from the river again. There was a stretch where its bank was too boggy and soft for horses to stay standing. Percy guided the group on an easy detour, and had spent most of the morning at the head of the formation, choosing between animal paths with practiced ease.
By now they found themselves in a gully on something that actually approached a road. They were getting close to the Boneway now, Percy had explained. When they reunited with the river it would be at the bridge that would bring them from the south bank to the northern one. It would be the point where Percy turned back.
"When you spoke of your teacher, you said that she taught you our language," Arianne said. "Did you come from somewhere else?"
"You could say that," Percy said in English. The alien words caused one of Arianne's eyebrows to arch. "I'm from pretty far away."
"Essos?"
"Further. It's not on any map I've seen. And my teacher owned plenty."
"Then how did you come here?" Arianne asked.
"There was a war. My father was in the middle of it. Naturally, I got pretty mixed up in it too. I took on… I guess you could call it a mission. I didn't expect to live through it. Right when I thought I was done for, I saw land and managed to swim to shore. Turns out, I was close to Wylmouth. Not that I knew the name yet. It took a few weeks of language lessons to get that far."
Arianne leaned so close that she almost slipped out of her saddle. "A war of your father's? You are a noble?"
"My teacher said that word would fit me."
He hadn't explained to Dyanna that he was the son of a god. Somehow, it still felt like she knew. She had taken to calling his father a lord, although that might've just started because he had a last name. Those were reserved for nobles on this continent.
"Jackson," Percy said after a second of thought. "That's my last name. Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon."
"It's no house I've heard of," Arianne said. "As expected, I suppose. Perhaps you really come from afar. Though I wonder at why you lived so long among the smallfolk, if your story is true. Did House Wyl turn you away? Currying favor with a foreign house could be reason enough for them to aid you."
Percy was silent. The sun beat down from the sliver of sky over the gully. "I wouldn't say that I went to them. My home is too far to get back to, so it's not like I can offer much if they did help me. Besides, I'm not Lord Wyl's favorite person."
"Oh?" Arianne smelled gossip. Percy grimaced.
"He has a daughter," Percy said. "She's a little younger than us. One of her favorite things is to come into Wylmouth and look at what the merchants have brought, especially when they're carrying things from Essos. It's just, the last few months, she's been visiting more… And looking at the goods less…"
"She's smitten!" Arianne laughed.
"It's not funny!" Percy complained. "She tries to flirt with me and I have to pretend I don't realize what she's doing, since her guards are glaring the whole time. Once, one of her cousins tracked me down and warned me that if I put a finger on her, he'd shave my head and replace my hair with snakes, attached to my scalp by the fangs. Do you know how hard it was not to laugh at that mental image?"
Arianne didn't find out because she was laughing freely to her heart's content.
"Most men would have shown fear," she said between giggles. "House Wyl treats their enemies ruthlessly."
Percy shrugged. "It's not like I would've let him do it. I was more worried about Aline."
"Who?"
"Jasim's daughter. You saw her. She's the one who kissed my hand when we were leaving."
"You're certainly popular with the fair sex." Arianne's voice deepened. "Not that I can't spot why."
"Aline was pretty much the same as the Wyl girl, except she knew she wasn't the daughter of a noble house. I think she was close to doing something crazy, and it was either going to end with her throwing herself into my bed or being thrown in a viper pit underneath Castle Wyl. Jasim could tell the same thing. He wanted me out of Wylmouth as soon as possible. Not that I can really blame him… He just couldn't throw me out since I was so popular. I think he's hoping I'll follow you and never come back."
"I admit, the idea is tempting." Arianne's voice said it was a joke. Her face said that she was seriously considering it. "If it soothes you, you are not the only one with unwelcome suitors."
Percy slid his thumb along the reins. He leaned to the left slightly, gauging how far down the gorge they were. "Boy trouble?" he asked.
"I am the one who gives boys trouble. Trouble reining in their urges in particular." Arianne sighed, all pride bleeding out of her voice. "I face something much more droll. Marriage problems."
"You're going to meet a suitor, right? Maybe the two of you will hit it off."
Arianne looked around. A moment later she subtly pulled her reins, slowing her steed and getting Percy to do the same. The gap widened between them and her soldiers.
"Would you like to hear a secret?" Arianne asked. Her smile gave her away as the kind of girl that loved secrets— telling them in particular.
"It'll go to the grave with me," Percy whispered back.
"I'm not supposed to be here. My father rejected Hoster Tully's meeting request. All he will arrange are meetings with rotten and withered men. Those of them that still have hair have all gone gray! I tried to sneak away once already. My cousin and I rode for Highgarden to meet the eldest son of Mace Tyrell, until my uncle caught us. I don't intend to be caught again."
When Percy just nodded, Arianne developed a pout.
"Does my confession bore you? I thought it was quite exciting."
"I'd mostly guessed."
"You what?"
Arianne's shrill tone stirred her soldiers. One of them looked back, surprise on his face when he noticed the distance that had formed. None of them came closer, though, so Percy could answer without worrying about being overheard.
"You're a princess traveling twelve guards. I've seen merchants pass through Wylmouth that had more. Plus, you aren't the first noble to travel the Boneway. All of them went straight to Castle Wyl and ate a nice feast. Eating goat with a smallfolk guide in an inn was a pretty good sign you were trying to stay under the radar."
"I… feel the need to defend my plan, but you speak the truth," Arianne said. "It was enough to fool my soldiers."
"They're fighting men, not thinking men," Percy said. "That knight, the leader? He probably suspects something. If I had to guess, he's worried that you'll run off alone if he confronts you. Better to keep his head down and stick to your side."
The two of them looked at the head of the formation where Ser Corren Wells rode between two of his men. The knight wore his headwrap, using it to obscure the helmet underneath. His leather bracers and breastplate were heavier than those worn by his men. It would be uncomfortably hot underneath all that, but he was opting for additional protection, just in case. All of the men had foregone any crests or symbols of their House Martell allegiance. It had been that way even back in Wylmouth— no doubt part of Arianne's attempts to remain inconspicuous.
Arianne squinted at her knight. "Are you sure you are not showing Ser Wells too much faith— Why has he stopped?"
He had drawn his reins up, halting so fast that his mount reared. Ser Wells raised his voice. Percy was too far back to grasp what he was saying. His men stopped too, although their reaction was sluggish, leading to the group bunching up.
Percy's eyes flickered around, searching over their heads. The faces of the gully were segmented in this place, sheer to a point until they reached a wide shelf, then sheer again down to the bottom. Each shelf was more than wide enough for Arianne's whole group to fit on, but high enough off the ground that a spear at full stretch would barely brush the ledge.
"We're under attack," Percy said.
"What? I see no such thing—!"
There was a whistling sound, barely audible from where they were. Ser Wells jerked his shield up, having detached it from its place on the side of his horse. Three long shafts buried into the wood with enough force to vibrate in place.
Arianne's cry of shock was drowned out by an equine squeal. The mount beneath Ser Wells had been the target of twice as many arrows. Myna, the Palomino sand steed Percy fed and watered that morning, collapsed with wooden spines sticking out of her throat. Ser Wells was pitched off and landed in the sand. When he made the mistake of lifting his head before his shield, the reward was an arrow through the eye.
The bowmen were visible now, lined up along the shelves Percy had noticed, making use of the natural ambush point to pin the Martell soldiers in a helpless position. They wore cloth instead of armor, including wraps that obscured any hint of their personal features.
One stepped forward, his face wrapped tightly in yellow cloth, and held his hands out, almost like he was preparing a hug. He spoke in a rich voice, as velvety as the sleeveless silk shirt that he wore.
"Hoh, travelers, and welcome to my home! I think it right to inform you that any valuables in your possession, be they gems or wine or women, are now forfeit to the Boneway Brotherhood. Should you refuse, well…" His head turned to the slumped form of Ser Wells before returning to those still alive. "I think you can see what fate awaits."