Three Gifts of Love
Fourteenth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
After being forced to endure Baelish's oily presence, Rhaenys' hopeful smile is a balm to the soul: "Did ya get 'im? Is he alright? Did he miss me?" The questions come tumbling one after another, not even pausing for breath while her mother looks on fondly from the bench by the windowsill. She had not objected to all the excitement so near the girl's bedtime, though she does get a worried look in her eye when Vee walks in leading a cleaned and healed Balerion who nonetheless slinks in like a shadowcat on the prowl, his newly restored ears swept back on the sides of his head.
"Whoa!" Rhaenys exclaims, eyes wide in amazement. "You've gotten big! Did someone feed you?"
"Cats're good hunters, even if they'd rather laze about," Vee interjects. "He got by with rats and snatching food off plates. Even got you a bit of payback," she chuckles.
Elia opens her mouth to interrupt, probably to chastise Vee, but Rhaenys does not seem upset, just looking quizzically between the young sorceress and the tomcat. "What d'you mean?"
Vee goes on to explain how Balerion had once stolen a roasted quail served to Tywin Lannister right off his plate, doubtless a scene of consternation, however brief for the haughty son of a bitch.
"That's the one who sent the bad men, right?" she asks, looking up at you.
You nod, happy to see her taking this so well, but uncertain how the hells a
cat had known Tywin Lannister had been responsible for Rhaenys' death. Perhaps Vee had simply told him...
"
Good kitty," the girl says resolutely. "You should've scratched him too, though." Whether the thread of satisfaction running through her words is owed to dragon's blood or Dornish heritage you cannot say, but you are suddenly struck by a premonition as strong as any you had known. In the unlikely event that Tywin Lannister should live long enough for Rhaenys to grow into her own he would not long survive
that day.
Vee translates for the cat in a series of yowls, hisses, and meows, then back again: "He says he would have, but there were too many men with iron claws there."
Elia clears her throat: "It's good to see you get along so well after your parting, sweetheart. Why don't you go play with Balerion in the other room for a bit while I talk to your uncle about grown-up things."
Balerion speaks up again, and again Vee interprets: "He says he wants some fish or milk, even some cheese if you have it..."
"It must be so nice to be able to talk to all animals," Rhaenys says wistfully. "Could I learn to talk cat, mama? Or maybe get an amulet like uncle Doran's that lets him talk in all sorts of people languages, only for cats?"
"I'm not entirely sure..." your goodsister glances at you in askance. Seeing your nod she passes the agreement on to Rhaenys. "I'll get you one for your nameday."
You almost interject that it would be no trouble to make one much sooner, but a moment later you realize Elia is making a point, that gifts do not just materialize out of thin air on command and sometimes one has to wait for what one desires. A good lesson for a princess to learn early.
Once the door is closed firmly in the wake of Rhaenys, Balerion, and her guard, you turn to Elia and explain that knowledge of her return to life had reached your enemies. While the particular breach had been sealed, there could be no guarantee it would not happen again. You again suggest she and Rhaenys stay with you in Sorcerer's Deep, making it clear that the decision is up to her but that you would strongly advise coming as your own protections are much greater than the ones Doran had been able to erect. "Sunspear will never be more than a call away, for I will be more than glad to carry you here whenever you desire," you finish.
Elia sighs: "I had hoped to be able to keep in Dorne a while longer, at least a few years. Sunspear and the Water Gardens feel safe to me in the way I do not think any other place can match, but I've learned long ago feelings are less important than the truth of the matter. We can be packed and off tonight."
Doran is less philosophical about the matter. The usually phlegmatic Prince of Dorne curses with a vigor worthy of his younger brother. "How did the secret get out?! Who talked?! Who betrayed their oaths?!"
"No one did as far as we know. It was only an astute guess and then sorcery to check the truth of it," you answer.
"Is there anyway to protect against that, utterly and without flaw?" he asks, still incensed, though now without a convenient target for his anger.
"There is, yes, the same enchantment that I have bound into the Conqueror's Crown," you motion towards the circlet of Valyrian Steel, for once in its true form, for it was Doran himself who gifted it to you. "However, it is not cheap even to a prince's pockets. Twenty-two thousand Imperial Marks if you can find an enchanter skilled enough to forge one, and those are rare even in the great trading cities of the genies."
"I would pay it ten times over to see them both safe," Doran insists. "Find me a mage who will work those spells and I will pay him for his craft."
"Highness, I will keep them safe," you interject firmly. "By all my arts and all the strength I have gathered I swear it."
"I know, I know. I do not doubt you, it's just..." the Prince of Dorne sighs. "I can't lose her again, you understand that?"
"Of course," you assure him. "I will find a mage willing to make such talis..."
Your pledge is cut off mid-word by Malarys speaking unexpectedly in your mind:
"We are near the Orb, having defeated its guardians, but we have encountered a Red Priestess who has come here to see you."
A Red Priestess, in the middle of the wastes, near the Orb of Dragonkind. A shiver goes down your spine. No lesser mage would have simply stumbled over that place, and any who might gain it would have the means to enslave you, even through all your wards. Still, if this priestess is willing to talk then you will talk, and if you do not like her answers then you can still fight.
How do you confront Melisandre?
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OOC: This includes buffs and initial introductions.