Jump to content

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

Westeros

The Burning Prince

Recommended Posts

In the wake of the bloody conflict between the Dalts and Gargalens over a desert well, some wondered how a lasting peace could be restored. The heir to Lemonwood had died, cut down by the Gargalens of Salt Shore. Retribution was called for, and it was given—in a way. For Prince Marence, having for too long (as some say) been indecisive at last called for an end to bloodshed. Wild Willum Gargalen was sent into exile for his part in Ser Blaise’s death, and the well fell to neither Lemonwood nor Salt Shore but to Sunspear. There were many who were dissatisfied with Prince Marence’s decision, but what else could be done but bear it?

Others still were willing to bear it, and move forward. The infamous Lady Mylene, tied by birth to the Gargalens and by marriage to the Dalts (and other houses besides), arranged for a feast, a “feast of forgiveness” as she called it, to help move those aggrieved past their anger toward a new peace. All three royal princes were present, as well, to give their approval to the effort. A glorious entertainment was arranged from the Free Cities, as food and wine was freely served. Alas, the entertainment went awry, a tumbler greatly injured. Though Lady Mylene pressed on with the entertainments, Prince Marence departed soon after, unsettled perhaps by the event.

In the dark of the night, a scream broke out from the chambers of the prince in the heights of the Tower of the Sun. The household guards and servants rushed in, and Prince Marence had been awakened by a night terror… though he insisted he had felt insects crawling, crawling all over his skin in his bed. Shaken, he demanded the mattress and sweat-soaked linens taken away and replaced, and he called for a glass of strongwine. All was done as he said before he would return to his bed. One knight said to his fellows that he thought a maester might be called for, for the prince seemed ill, but nothing came of it…

... until in the hour before dawn, the prince burst from his room, shouting that there was a fire. Two of the guard rushed in, while shouting for buckets of water, sand… but all there was to be seen was a candle knocked over upon the tiled floor. Yet the prince, fever-eyed, flushed, half-incoherent, shouted and cursed, telling them to put out the flames that were engulfing the room, the tower, him. Shocked, agog, the men tried to reassure him and the prince swore and cursed them. Some say he attempted to escape the “flames” by leaping from a window, but was restrained, men piling on him. The maester was called for, and rumor ran wild through the Old Palace, and into the shadow city. By the time the maesters arrived, the prince had been taken by a fit, foaming at the mouth, and then with a scream of wrenching agony became insensate to the world.

The sun of Dorne rose in the east, but some now fear the Sun of Dorne is sinking, and swiftly, in the Tower of the Sun.



Visit the Site!

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

×