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Game of Thrones: The Giant Crab of the Narrow Sea
Game of Thrones: The Sword King
Game of Thrones: From Bastard to Emperor
Arthur and Nymeria finished their "official business," and then moved on to official business.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Nymeria Sand kept Arthur effectively occupied in Blackmont for three days.
On the morning of the fourth day.
Morning light filtered through the gap in the curtains, painting a golden line across the floorboards.
Arthur stood before the mirror, examining his slightly haggard face. Dark circles had appeared under his eyes.
He rubbed the stubble on his chin and swore a silent oath: Starting today, I'm quitting... wine!
"A pity I missed seeing the Sword of the Morning's gallant form in the lists."
Nymeria's languid voice came from behind him. Arthur turned to see her half-reclining against the headboard, wrapped in a silken sheet. Her straight black hair cascaded over the pillows like a waterfall, and the morning light played temptingly over her willow-slim figure.
She yawned, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Though, judging by the performance of your 'lance' in bed these past few days, I think I have a fair idea of your prowess."
Arthur had grown accustomed to Nymeria's brazen words and the sensual atmosphere over the last few days. He replied without batting an eye or flushing, "I intended to crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty. It's a shame someone didn't show up to the tourney."
"I care less for flowery crowns and more for the Fowler twins." Nymeria stretched, the silk sheet slipping down to reveal her smooth shoulders. "I heard a lot of Reach ladies attended the tourney. What? Didn't catch your eye on any of them?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "I was afraid of causing a scandal."
He remembered clearly that although Nymeria hadn't attended in person, her letter—filled with veiled threats—had arrived right on time. She had claimed she was ready to duel any new paramour of his with daggers.
Nymeria threw off the covers and stepped onto the soft carpet with bare feet. Moving as lightly as a cat, she came up behind Arthur and leaped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"You're a great lord now. How could I possibly control you?"
Her chin rested on his shoulder, her breath tickling his ear.
Arthur watched her seemingly innocent expression in the mirror. Knowing Nymeria as well as he did, he sensed something was off. "You want something, don't you?"
"Oh, you caught me." Nymeria let go, walked to the window, and pulled the curtains open with a swish, letting the sunlight flood the room.
With her back to Arthur, her voice suddenly turned serious. "It's about Arianne. Ever since my dear uncle arranged the marriage between House Yronwood and House Allyrion, the calls in Sunspear for Quentyn to inherit Dorne have grown louder.
"Uncle hides away in the Water Gardens every day, pretending he can't hear anything. And you know my father, the Red Viper—he couldn't care less about these things."
She sighed dramatically. "My poor cousin Arianne writes to me almost every day to complain."
Arthur couldn't help but roll his eyes. The heir to Dorne, poor? That means the smallfolk must have grown up drowning in bitterness.
"What does Arianne need me to do?" Arthur asked seriously. "Let me be clear first: I'm an honest man. I don't do things without benefit."
Nymeria gave him a scornful look, her full lips curling in disdain. "Look at you. 'No profit, no early rising.' You're wasting the title of Sword of the Morning."
"Even the Sword of the Morning has to eat." Arthur walked over to her, his fingers gently brushing her cheek.
Nymeria slapped his hand away, her expression turning grave. "Stop joking. Arianne wants you to propose a marriage alliance to Prince Doran."
Arthur paused. "Marry whom? You?"
He feigned confusion.
"Hmm? Why are you leaning in?"
"Ouch! Why did you bite me?"
Nymeria released her teeth from his shoulder, leaving a shallow ring of marks. "I'm serious. No strange games. Marry Arianne!"
Arthur rubbed his shoulder and said seriously, "Prince Doran will never agree."
"How can you be so sure?" Nymeria narrowed her eyes, studying him suspiciously.
Arthur cursed silently.
He couldn't tell Nymeria that Doran had long ago arranged a secret pact for Arianne, or that he spent his days plotting with the Red Viper to overthrow the Iron Throne and avenge Elia Martell and her children.
Seeing Arthur's silence, Nymeria didn't press him. She waved her hand and walked to the vanity to brush her long hair.
"It doesn't matter if Prince Doran agrees or not. As long as you make the request, it counts as a declaration of support for Arianne."
Great, Arthur thought. So I'm being used as a political prop.
It reminded him of the tourney at Starfall, where he had endorsed Arianne as the "Knight of Hearts." It was the same principle.
"And the benefit?" Arthur asked bluntly.
Nymeria glared at him through the mirror. "If Prince Doran agrees, you'll be a Prince of Dorne eventually. What more benefit do you want?"
Seeing Arthur unmoved, she put down the comb, tied her hair with a gold-red cord, and turned back to him, her hands wandering mischievously.
"I know my uncle's character. You are the Sword of the Morning, and you've just subdued the wildlings of the Red Mountains and House Blackmont. He won't easily refuse a powerful lord with your influence."
Arthur caught her wandering hand, understanding immediately. "Even if he refuses, he'll have to offer me something to appease me and keep me loyal?"
"Of course." Nymeria pulled her hand free. "To refuse such a powerful vassal, he must offer compensation to maintain the relationship."
"Besides... my cousin Arianne wouldn't mind sharing..."
Listening to the rosy picture she painted, Arthur had to admit, only one part of it truly tempted him.
Just as he was considering how to respond, there was a sudden knock at the door.
"My Lord, the Maester says he needs to see you urgently." Penrose's timid voice came from the hallway.
Arthur frowned. "Didn't I say not to disturb me these past few days?"
" The... The Maester says a letter arrived from Beaconwatch," Penrose stammered. "He says the matter described in the letter is urgent."
Arthur sighed. "Tell the Maester to wait for me in the solar. I'll be there shortly. Also, prepare two breakfasts—one sent to the solar, one here."
Hearing Penrose's footsteps retreat, Nymeria raised an eyebrow. "So, what do you think?"
Arthur threw on his tunic and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Eat first. We'll talk when I get back."
He turned to the door, then held up his personal signet ring and looked back. "And don't get any funny ideas. I know exactly what you're plotting."
Nymeria glared at the signet ring in Arthur's hand, grabbed a pillow, and threw it at him. Arthur dodged it nimbly and slipped out.
In the solar, sunlight streamed through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a plate of fried gull eggs and bacon on the table.
Arthur flopped into the chair, grabbed a fork, and shoveled eggs into his mouth.
The exertions of the past few days had indeed been draining. He was fully satisfied in one regard, but genuinely starving in another.
"Maester, what happened at Beaconwatch?" he asked between chews, his gaze falling on the old scholar standing anxiously nearby.
The Maester hesitated, then handed the letter he had been clutching to Arthur. "You... you had best read it yourself, My Lord."
"Always so mysterious..." Arthur muttered. He continued to fork bacon into his mouth with his left hand while taking the letter with his right to read.
As his eyes scanned the parchment, Arthur's expression slowly froze.
When he reached the last line, he slammed the fork onto the table with a loud clang, splattering grease onto the letter.
"Tell Zack to saddle my horse. Order Lothor Brune to assemble the cavalry." Arthur's face was dark as a thunderhead, his voice cold as ice. "I ride for Beaconwatch immediately."
The Maester stepped back in fright and bowed hurriedly. "At once, My Lord!"
He rushed out of the room.