Chapter 36.4- The Seadragon's Roar

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He stared down at his hands, they were clean as always. He prided himself own having clean hands, a clean body, a clean mind. It was one thing his Grandmother had always stressed in his childhood. He scoffed to himself. One thing? His Grandmother had stressed so many things that picking one of them felt disrespectful. Punctuality, cleanliness, pragmatism, respect for ones elders, generosity towards ones lessers, and morality. What would she think looking down on him from the heavens now?

Childkiller. That is what he was now. Clean as his hands were, just a few hours ago, they had held down a boy not even old enough to have had his balls drop and forced poison down his throat. Even the death had been clean in the end. At least he kept his Grandmother’s edicts on cleanliness close. Even as he disappointed her in everything else. Loyalty to one’s liege. She had taught that much as well. He knew his father had disappointed her when he began his ill-thought treason. But then his father’s treason had been stupid and wasteful. His was a necessary evil. He was doing it for his life.

But value for one’s own life was not one of the things his Grandmother had told him to hold close. After all, had she not been all about the family? Was the wise thing not to retire to The Tor, find a beautiful enough Knight’s daughter, marry her, and sire a dozen boys on her. Let Qoren take his head when he pleased, his line would continue. But when had he ever been content with merely enough.

His Grandmother had taught him many things, but she had failed to teach him contentment. He wanted more than a wife with a chest of bronze as her dowry. He wanted more than a castle that was more wood than stone. He wanted more than to struggle to feed his people when the winter came and food from abroad became prohibitively expensive, even as the little that grew within Dorne withered and died under the cold winds.

He wanted more, and if the Seven would damn him for daring to dream of a better life than he had been relegated to by decisions made by men long dead, then he would damn the Seven themselves in turn. He squeezed his hands closed and turned to the man by his side.

“Are you ready? If you’re having viper’s belly, this is the time to turn about” He asked.

“With you, Icarus, I will sail into the Seven hells themselves. I was born ready.” His oldest friend said in return, and he felt himself calm. This was just like every other lark they played as children in the shadow city or in Sunspear proper. Except this time they were going to try to kidnap a Prince rather than steal some wine. Same principles, though.