Pov Allem

  Allem Dayne guided his horse along the windi road, the te afternoon sun painting the Red Mountains in deep russet hues. He had spent the past two moons riding from one minor Dayne holding to another, ensuring harvests were tallied and taxes collected. It was a duty he performed diligently, if not gdly—Starfall’s reach extehrough rocky passes aile oases, and someone had to make certain that grain and traveled smoothly back to the family’s seat. Still, the monotony of it grated on him. He far preferred the open roads to stagnant courts, yet the stant pretense and half-smiles from local petty lords tested his patience.

  He urged his mare forward, recalling the st watchtower he had passed that m. The guards there spoke of bandits prowling the trade routes near Bt nd, but Allem had seen no sign of outws—only tired merts and a handful of dusty riders on their way to markets in Windhall h Hermitage. Dorne might seem peaceful these days, yet Allem knew how easily tension could spark in this nd of proud tempers. The realm as a whole was not so different: King Robert Baratheon sat upon the Iron Throne, but rumors whispered of risis in King’s Landing, of Ironborn raiders testing the western coasts, and of the old scars from Robert’s Rebellion never fully healing.

  In truth, Allem felt the weight of that rebellion in his own life. His mind drifted often to his brother, Arthur Dayne—ohe Sword of the M—who had died at the end of that flict, leaving House Dayh an unfilble void. For Allem, Arthur’s loss was more than the end of a legend beloved by bards; it was the wreng absence of a brother whose kindness had surpassed his renown. Even so, Allem did not fault ark for that death. Arthur had chosen his path, and the realm had chosen its. Yet the memory cast a perpetual shadow on him and on Starfall. Some days he could not look at the sunrise glinting off the castle’s pale walls without thinking of the dawn Arthur would never see again.

  His reins slipped a fra from his grip when a gust of hot wind blew, bringing with it the st of sage a sand. He tightened his hold, guiding the mare around a craggy bend. If not for family obligations, he might have roamed farther north, seeking greener fields or the famed market towns across the Narrow Sea. But his heart had never quite let him stray far from Starfall. It was more than duty—there was a fierce loyalty in him for his kin. House Dayne had lost Arthur, and Ashara had lost so much more than a brother in those turbulent years.

  Allem thought of her, with her haunting violet eyes that still brimmed with grief, determination, or both. After Arthur’s death and the upheaval of the Rebellion, Ashara had returo Starfall, cloaked in rumors abreak. Some said she was ged, though Allem had found only a deeper yer of resolve in her—a private dignity that refused to shatter evehe realm’s tongues wagged about her alleged liaisons and lost child. Only he khe truth, or so he believed. Yet that truth came with burdens of its own, like the presen Starfall of a certain boy: Edrid, as most called him. A child the world believed was Allyria Dayne’s, a kindly cover that allowed Ashara to remain above suspi.

  Allem had grown fond of the d—watg him scramble about the courtyard, ever eager to prove himself with wooden swords. Edric was bright, inquisitive, too curious for his own good. The boy’s polite respeever quite masked the restless energy that drove him. Brandon Stark’s blood ran fier Edric’s veins, for all that he carried features remi of House Day was a secret that could never be spoken aloud, not if they wished to keep him safe from political vultures.

  With that thought, Allem pressed on, half lost in memory. The realm’s troubles felt distant on these winding roads—bandits or no, the nd was calmer thaurmoil of King’s Landing or the frosty intrigues of the North. Yet he knew House Dayne’s peace was fragile too. Any day a raven could arrive with ill tidings. And so he kept riding, ensuring the lines of supply and reveayed strong, ensuring loyal men guarded each pass. Each day of stability made Starfall a little safer for Lady Ashara and, above all, for Edrid.

  Just as the sun hovered he peaks, dipping the mountains in shades of crimson, he spotted a messenger galloping across the hard-packed road. The man wore House Dayne’s sigil on his jerkin, and Allem’s heart tightened. News from Starfall—whether good or bad—was rarely carried by a rider at such speed without cause. Pulling his mare to a stop, he accepted the letter. He saw at ohe seal of the falling star in vender wax, reized Ashara’s sure hand.

  He ope with dread, sing the lihat spoke of fever, bck tar, and a transformation that defied sense. Her words seemed to bleed urgency between the sentences, impl him to return at once. He reread the letter twice, each pass leaving him with fresh unease. Edric’s fever had struck again, apparently far worse than the first time. Nothing… normal about it, Ashara wrote.

  His stomach ed. He spurred his horse forward without a sed thought, the responsibilities he’d been tending fotten for the moment. Let the lesser stewards hahe final tallies. If Edric’s dition truly baffled eveer Arron, Allem o be there. Outside threats to House Dayne were oter, but this—whatever it was—struck at the heart of the family itself.

  Now, as he rode into the deepening dusk, only a single questioed in his head. What truly happeo Edric?

  He g the letter again, words blurring in the failing light. Starfall’s outline loomed ahead, the fortress walls gleaming with distant torchlight. Allem felt a renewed surge of purpose. Whatever the truth, he would protect that boy as he had always done, quietly, relentlessly. If Edric had survived something beyond human reing, then Allem would stand beside him, no matter what new secrets might upend their world. In that moment, he remembered Arthur, and how fiercely he had defehose he loved. Allem could do no less. He kicked his mare into a ter, ign the burn in his muscles.

  He had to reae before the moon climbed too high. He had to see Edric safe, or at least uand what monstrous or miraculous thing had befallen him.

  ***

  Allem Dayne reined in his horse at the crest of a rocky rise overlooking the final stretch of road to Starfall. The wind caught at his cloak, snapping it about his shoulders like a loose sail, but he paid it no mind. He was too busy squinting into the distance, searg for the pale towers he knew so well. Sure enough, the fortress rose against the sky, poised above the Torrentine’s swirling waters. A faint glimmer of the Summer Sea y beyond, burnished like beaten copper ie-afternoon light.

  Rubbing a hand over his ly trimmed beard, Allem exhaled. He had not felt such raw unease sihe raven that bore word of Arthur Dayne’s death. Yet the lines in Ashara’s ret missive uled him in a different way entirely: Edrice merely feverish, now somehow ged beyond all reason. Even now, those words hovered in his mind, juring impossible images that refused to quiet.

  He spurred his steed forward, tinuing down the narrow trail that twisted among boulders and thorny scrub. Ordinarily, the sight of home filled him with warmth. His journeys were often tedious, iating nd disputes, safeguarding trade caravans, and ensuring the lesser Dayne nds produced enough tribute for Starfall. But today apprehension weighed on him like a damp cloak. What had happeo Edrid recisely, had Ashara downpyed in her letter?

  The early signs of Starfall’s outer defenses soon came into view: a wooden outpost manned by a pair of guards, the crest of House Dayne embzoned on their shields. They exged quick salutes at Allem’s approach. Their faces reflected relief—perhaps he should have e sooner. He reined in, giving his mare a breather, and o one of the men, a younger guard named Ron.

  “Any troubles on the road?” Allem asked, keeping his toral.

  “None, Ser,” Ron replied—that habitual honorifigering from respect rather than official knighthood. “Just the usual merts and travelers. But we heard you’d bee for. We’re gd to see you.”

  Gd to see me indeed, Allem thought grimly. From his vantage, he hey wore uneasy expressions, maybe refleg more than an ordinary relief at the arrival of a Dayainer. A hush y around them, a sense of unasked questions swirling close to the surface.

  “Thank you,” was all he said. “I’ll ride on.”

  With a nudge of his heels, he guided his mount past the post. The stony path desded, and soon the main gate of Starfall loomed, fnked by tall walls. Within minutes, Allem ehe courtyard: a bustling space of stableboys dartiween horses, servants carrying produce from a wagon, and two men rolling a cask of Dornish wioward the celrs. At his appearance, a few heads turned. In the scattered murmuring, he could practically taste the tension.

  Before he could dismount, a voice called his name. A stable d—Harrick—hurried forward, bobbing a respectful bow. “Wele back, my lord Allem,” he said, taking the reins. “Lady Ashara waits for you in the sor. She said you’d e by sundown.”

  Allem nodded. “Yes, see to my horse. Have fresh water ready. The poor beast galloped half the way.”

  Harriodded eagerly, leading the mare off. Allem swung down from the saddle, rolling his shoulders to dispel the stiffness of the ride. The yard felt strangely subdued for a busy afternoon—it was as though a shadow y over everything, a hush underlying the normal hum. He forced his feet to move toward the keep, trying to maintain outward posure while his ow drummed a faster rhythm.

  Guards at the main doors stood aside, short salutes that lingered with curiosity. Allem’s footsteps echoed across the cool fgstones of the inner hall. Memories pressed in on him—he had grown up within these walls, one branch of the extensive Dayne family. Yet Fate and iance had pced Ashara at the heart of Starfall’s affairs in more ways thahe secret they now shared—that Edric was no mere bastard boy, but the child of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne—had bound them together in quiet plicity for years.

  As he asded the winding steps, a passing servant muttered something about “the boy” and “gods be good.” Allem’s jaw tightehis was worse than he’d expected. Gossip ook long to flourish, but the uone of fear made his own unease mount.

  He found the sor door ajar, soft mplight gleaming withiepped through, notig how evening had tihe chamber’s walls a faint gold. Ashara sat at her writing desk, quill in hand, yet she didn’t seem to be writing. Rather, she stared ily at the part before her, as if lost in thought. At his entrance, she looked up.

  “Ashara,” Allem said quietly, bowing his head in deference. “I came as fast as I could.”

  She rose, a graceful motion tinged with fatigue. Her face bore signs of tension—faint li the ers of her violet eyes, discoloratioh them. Even so, she managed a gentler expression upon seeing him. “Allem, thank you.” Her voice wavered. “You must be tired.”

  He shrugged off the travel aches. “The letter. I could scarcely believe it. Tell me everything. Is Edric—?”

  Ashara gestured for him to sit, her tone subdued yet urgent. “He’s alive, if that’s your worry. Alive and... ged.” She began to pace, her yered skirts whispering against the polished floor. “The fever took him for three days. We feared losing him, truly. Then he woke, but not as before.”

  Allem perched on a narrow wooden chair, tension coiled in his shoulders. “How bad is it?” She paused, swallowing hard. “Worse than we could have imagined. Or better, depending on how you see it. He’s grown—physically ged, as if he aged two or three years ht. His strength is uny, his senses sharper than any boy’s has a right to be—”

  “Seven hells.” Allem’s breath caught. “That rumor of bck tar, that’s—?”

  “Not rumor,” Ashara firmed, her voice tight. “We found him drenched in it. The smell was foul beyond words. It g to the sheets but didn’t stain his skin. Maester Arron was baffled.”

  Allem let a heavy silence expand, grappling with the magnitude of it. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Does this have to do with Brandon’s blood? Or some curse, or—”

  “He calls it a gift from the gods,” Ashara broke in. “At least, that’s the story we’re telling. He says visions came to him—old gods, the Seven, who tested him with trials. It might be half-truth, half-lie, I don’t know. But if the realm discovered how extreme his transformation is... We ’t risk that. Not now, not ever.”

  Allem nodded grimly, remembering how even small talk of bastardy could spark intrigues in a world starved for sdal. “So you wao keep quiet. That’s easily done.” He exhaled. “But how severe is the ge, truly? Enough that I might think him a different child if I didn’t know better?”

  “You’ll see for yourself,” she affirmed. “He’s in his chamber, resting. I wao speak to you before you id eyes on him. Otherwise, you might have panicked.”

  Allem stood abruptly, adjusting his cloak. “Take me to him, then. I’d see the truth with my own eyes.”

  Ashara’s lips tightened, but she ined her head. “As you wish. Let’s fetch Allyria as well. She’ll want to be present.”

  They left the sor, desding a corridor lit by the glow of wall sces. The hush of evening had begun to settle, but the occasional servant darted past, arms den with linens or trays. Each cast inquisitive g Allem’s purposeful stride. Ashara led him to a broader flight of steps leading to the living quarters. Partway there, Allyria joihem, her expression te relieved at Allem’s presence.

  “Allyria,” he greeted curtly, though warmth underid his tone. She had overseen much of Edric’s upbringing, at times pying the role of mother more visibly than Ashara could.

  “I gather you’ve heard,” she said. “I’m gd you came so soon.”

  Ashara paused outside a door. “He’s inside. Let me speak first.” She rapped lightly. A heartbeat passed. Then a muffled reply: “Yes?”

  Ashara opehe door, revealing a chamber lit by a single dle on a table he bed. Edric stood across the room, wearing a loose-fitting tunic. Even in the flicker of dlelight, the boy’s transformation was undeniable. He was taller, with the lean lines of early youth, not the pudgy roundness of a seven-year-old. His arms showed ued tone—small muscles coiling with each shift. The shape of his face had ged, too, the jaw more defined, cheekbones higher.

  Allem sucked in a breath, fighting not to show shock. Yet his dismay must have flickered across his features, because Edric’s posture stiffehe boy attempted a weling nod, but Allem sehe fear behind those solemn eyes. Still the same grey eyes, though: solemn, quietly intelligent, remi of his father in a way that made Allem’s heart twist.

  “Uncle,” Edric murmured.

  Allem took a step forward, uain. “Edric... in the gods’ name.” He let out a tense ugh, though no mirth colored it. “You do look like a d of ten or more.”

  The boy’s lips curved in something like an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry if this is a shock. It was... an ordeal.”

  Allem let out a sharp breath, stepping closer, scrutinizing every detail. Yes, the shape of the brows, the slope of the shoulders: undeniably Edric. Yet also undeniably ged. “We have much to talk about,” he finally said, voice tight. “But first, are you truly well, boy?”

  Edriodded. “I’m better than well, if I’m ho. Ashara—Mother—asked me not to overexert. But physically, I feel strohan ever.”

  A fsh of fusion passed through Allem. Mother, pinly said. He g Ashara, who offered a faint nod. So that secret was out in the opewee st. Allem felt relief swirl with fresh apprehension. Those truths, once hidden behind the facade of Aunt and Nephew, no longer he same charade.

  Allyria closed the door so that the four of them stood in the flickering dlelight. Allem noticed the bed linens had been repced retly, no sign of tar or bck stains, though a faint herbal st suggested a thh ing. The close warmth of the chamber, along with the tension, made the air feel heavy.

  “I had a letter, yes,” Allem began, voice carefully measured. “But words ’t describe what I see now. Tell me pinly how this happened.”

  Edric drew in a breath, gng at Ashara. She gave him a tiny nod to proceed. Thus prompted, Edric expihe story they had all agreed upon—or at least, a version of it. The fever returning, the uhly dreams, old gods aesting him, the straar left behind when his body ged. As the tale unfolded, Allem found himself swayiween disbelief aant acceptance. He koo mas in this great castle to dismiss outndish cims ht.

  When Edric spoke of st year’s fever as a smaller hint of these godly gifts, Allem felt a chill. He recalled how swiftly the boy had healed, how he’d been bounding around the courtyard soon after. At the time, Allem had chalked it up to a young boy’s resilienow, it seemed part of a rger tapestry of impossibilities.

  When Edriished, a hush fell. Allem eyed him. “So you’re tellihe gods granted you this power? And that you learned all this through visions?”

  Edric lowered his gaze. “Yes, Uncle. I don’t fully uand it myself. But Mother Ashara says we must keep it hidden—that many would seek to use me if they knew.”

  Allem scratched at his beard, letting out a p rumble. “She’s n. If half of what you say is true, you might be the very stuff of legends. htmares, for some.”

  Ashara stepped forward, her posure wavering for the first time. “I’m asking for your loyalty, Allem. As I always have. We ’t allow ao exploit this for political gain—the boy’s heritage alone is enough risk.”

  Allem’s mind whirled with possibilities. He pictured lords from ions hearing of a bastard child who had physically matured and grown inhumanly strong in a single moon’s turn. Dorne was more open-minded about bastards, true, but such rumors would spread like wildfire, apanied by whisperings of bck magic, f alliances of profit or fear.

  He thought of Brandon Stark—his memory a half-fotten ghost of the rebellion. Would that Wolf have wanted his son paraded or hidden? Brandon was never oo hide, but times had ged. “No. We ’t let suews escape Starfall,” Allem said at length. “Whatever story we weave must be sistent.”

  “We’ve told the castle it was a mysterious fever, a result of the gods testing him,” Allyria added. “That it aged him unnaturally. Rumors might persist, but as long as we keep them vague and flig, the truth should stay buried.”

  Allem sidered this. He studied Edric again, still grappling with the sheer wrongness—and rightness—of the boy’s metamorphosis. “Are you certain you’ve no sting harm? No hidden ailment waiting to strike?”

  Edric gave a half-smile. “No harm, uncle. If anything, I’ve never felt more alive. Though it’s all new... I’m still learning my body’s limits.”

  “That, you must do away fr eyes,” Allem growled, letting protectiveness color his words. “If the master-at-arms sees you lift a man off his feet, or outrun a horse, he’ll talk—even if he’s loyal. Secrets have a way of slipping out.”

  Ashara moved closer to Edric, resting a hand on his shoulder. “He knows, and he’s promised caution. We want to ease him bato the yard gradually. s of impossible strength in public.”

  A sardonic chuckle escaped Allem. “Avoid feats of impossible strength, indeed.” He softened his tone. “Edric... I’m gd you’re alive. Make no mistake of that. I’ve cared for you as long as you remember. It’s just... a shock. To see you grown so.”

  The boy exhaled, shoulders rexing. “I wish it had been mradual. But we ’t ge it now.”

  Allem nodded, accepting. He was ner to the ued. House Dayself embraced myths older than memory—like the legendary bde Dawn, said to be fed from a fallen star. Perhaps it was fitting that another marvel should rise us roof.

  Gng around, Allem caught Ashara’s gaze. Something passed between them, an unspoken recolle of all they’d doo hide Edric’s parentage. He reized the weariness in her eyes, the burden that only looked heavier now. “You should rest, child,” he said to Edric. “I’ve only just arrived, but I see how much this has strained you.”

  Edric dipped his head. “I will.”

  But Ashara shook her head gently. “That’s enough with formalities; we’re all family here.” She turo Allem. “You’ll stay a few days at least? There is more to discuss—how we’ll manage rumors, how to handle Ser Daemon’s curiosity and Maester Arron’s questions, and everything else.”

  “Aye,” Allem said, though in truth he had no pressing desire to leave. If chaos was brewing, he preferred to be ihick of it so he could shield his loved ones. “I’ll be here as long as needed.”

  Allyria stepped away from the door, looking relieved. “Shall we go to the sor a Edric rest a bit more? eak of the specifics without troubling him further. The boy’s had enough questions thrown at him.”

  Edriaged a small, grateful smile, as if gd for respite. Allem approached, hesitated, then id a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boructure felt solid, the muscle beh it real and firm. Not an illusion, then. “Good to see you again, nephew,” he murmured, allowing the old title. “Whatever this is, you’re still a Dayne—and, gods help you, part Stark. We’ll find a way to see you through it.”

  “Thank you, Uncle,” Edric said. His grey eyes reflected something like relief, a sehat Allem’s acceptance—guarded though it might be—was the reassurance he most needed.

  Outside, the corridor felt slightly cooler, and Allem released a long breath. Allyria closed Edric’s door behind them, then g Ashara. “Where to?”

  “Back to the sor,” Ashara decided. “We talk freely there, away from curious ears.”

  They walked, passing a cluster of servants who quickly bowed and hurried on. Allem stifled a sigh. Winding through Starfall’s passages, he recalled another memory: decades ago, when he’d been a fresh-faced youth, uain about his p the family. Now, strahough it seemed, he was the steady presence while a child with unimaginable gifts wrestled with his own p the world.

  Reentering the sor, they found it warmed by the st glow of day. A brazier off to one side offered flickering firelight. Allyria shut the door firmly, while Ashara moved to the table where ink, quill, and scattered part waited. The window above them afforded a view of the courtyard; purple shadows stretched across the cobblestones, and men prepared torches for the impending dusk.

  Allem folded his arms, leaning against the wall. “So. We say it’s the gods, old and new alike, bestowing a strange boon on the boy. A fever that triggered it. Most will be ined to believe the simpler story, I suppose.”

  Ashara nodded. “In a pce like Dorne, with its blend of traditions and tolerance for all manner of peculiarities, it could pass as a rare miracle.”

  “Still, some might suspect darker sorcery,” Allyria added, her tone low. “But we’ll do what we to quell such whispers.”

  Allem eyed them both, a soft question in mind. “And how are you—truly? This ’t be easy oher of you. You’ve kept his parentage a secret all these years, only for another, wilder secret to join it.”

  Allyria flicked a g Ashara, then looked down, ing her arms around herself. “We’re frightened,” she admitted. “For him. And for what it means if word spreads. The boy’s grown. He looks so much like... Brandon.”

  A pained liched itself across Ashara’s brow. “If some Northerner who onew Brandoo see Edriow, they’d guess instantly. And if word reached King’s Landing, or the Red Keep, or anywhere else a ing mind might dwell... We could face a storm.”

  Allem’s memory jured the Red Keep’s endless corridors of espiohe lethal ing of court. “Aye,” he said. “Best that Edric remain in Dorne. Let the rest of that realm fet or dismiss him. Do you mean to keep him from traveling?”

  “For the time being,” Ashara replied heavily. “He’ll remain at Starfall. At least until the realm’s focus is elsewhere or he’s steady enough to disguise his abilities.”

  Siletled. The glow from the brazier cast dang shapes across the walls, refleg each of tension in the room.

  “We’ll o keep an eye oer Arron’s inquiries too,” Allyria noted. “He’s the studious sort; if he starts analyzing Edric’s dition, there’s no telling what he might uncover.”

  Allem grunted. “Maesters might be men of learning, but they be discreet when it suits them. Make him believe the official line: a mysterious fever, the will of the gods. Offer no more details.”

  Ashara’s shoulders slumped, a rare moment of vulnerability. “We’re weaving quite a web. One misstep, and everything unravels.”

  Allyria reached out, toug Ashara’s arm. “Edric told us the gods intended him for something—some prophecy, perhaps. He half-believes it might excuse his nature. I only pray it doesn’t lead him to openly funt his gifts.”

  Allem winced. “Boys have pride, and Edric’s always beeermined. But let’s trust he’ll be careful, given the danger.”

  A nod passed among them, a silent pact. Eventually, Ashara turoward the window, watg as the sky bled from gold into vender. “We should sup soon. Allem, will you join us? In private, of course. Edric might be hungry, and I’d wager you’ve en a proper meal this day.”

  Allem’s stomach growled in agreement, reminding him he hadn’t paused to break bread since dawn. “Yes,” he said, softer now. “I’d like that. eak further, perhaps reassure the boy I’m on his side.”

  Ashara mustered a smile. “He’ll be gd to hear it from you directly.”

  Allyria beed a servant waiting just outside to request a simple meal be brought to Ashara’s private dining nook. As they made arras, Allem wao the window. The courtyard below was calmer, the bustle winding down. Torches began casting warm halos against the encroag night. Somewhere out of sight, Edric settled in his chamber—caught in a whirlwind of growth and secrecy.

  Allem found himself refleg on the child’s father, the fiery Wolf who had once possessed such reckless charm. Brandon Stark had died too soon, leaving only echoes behind. Now, through a twist of fate, his son carried an eveer burden: powers that defied reason, a body ged in ways no mortal man could entirely believe without seeing firsthand.

  “Fate rarely deals simple hands,” Allem muttered under his breath. He ched a fist around the hilt of a small dagger at his belt, a gesture of reflex. “But I’ll see him safe.”

  The vow was quiet, made to no o himself. Yet as the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing Starfall’s a walls in twilight, he felt a certainty take root. The boy needed guardians, not just from the realm’s s but perhaps from his own potential. Allem Dayne would stand steadfast, as he always had, proteg secrets that if revealed could shake eveony halls of Starfall.

  Someoouched his shoulder lightly—a servant ushering him to follow Ashara and Allyria to a private room, where a meal awaited. Allem let out a final breath before turning. Whatever trials y ahead, they would face them as a family, each bound by love and ing. Perhaps that was all the shelter Edrieeded.

  As darkness fully cimed the sky, Allem stepped away from the window and joined his kin, ready to share bread and words in the hush of Starfall’s discreet ers—a remihat in this game of shadows, they were allies first, determio protect their own.

  Author’s Note:

  So, we've officially reached 10 chapters—a great milestone for me! ?? Please share whatever you loved or disliked so far. Your ents only help make the story better, nothing else!

  Now, about the update schedule—since I loading 2 chapters per day, I'll be shifting to 1 chapter per day from now on. But sometimes, if I feel like it and have the capacity, I might still drop 2 chapters.