"It's my duty, my God-given birthright and my crown."
- Mary, Queen of Scots
In which Valyria Targaryen returns to the Red Keep and becomes a key player in the game for the Iron Throne.
....or....
In which there isn't a person in the Se...
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125 AC, Sunspear
Qoren Martell knew his time was coming to an end.
He had known it for moons now. In the beginning, just after the failed attempt on him and his family, he truly had believed the danger had passed. That they had emerged out of the conspiracy against House Martell without any losses. But their victory had been celebrated too soon.
It started off with him noticing how the wound on his shoulder didn't seem to heal. Qoren had been injured in battles several times before – never stabbed though – and he knew that while it could take time for skin to re-grow into a scar. Yet a little over a moon after the attack there was no progress. In fact, the wound looked as fresh as it had when the healer first stitched it together.
Being stabbed was a pain – he could have guessed that – yet what he'd never guessed was how it got increasingly worse with time. Qoren's assumption was that the striking throb of pain that shot through his entire arm when the blade pierced his skin in the sept was the peak. The days that followed there was a lingering ache that the healers assured would pass eventually.
Qoren truly became concerned when he noticed the switch in Jorario Nohiros, Sunspear's main healer's, demeanour during examinations. Instead of simply cleaning the wound and changing the bandages he'd spent what felt like hours simply studying the seemingly fresh cut with a deep frown. Every other day, he'd try a new herb or method that surely would speed up – or rather start – the healing process. Nothing ever worked.
At first, the pain was bearable, it simply felt like he had overdone himself in the training yard, but eventually it reached a point where he no longer could hide it. Especially not from Valyria who seemed to have noticed something was wrong from the start. Countless times had Qoren assured his fretting wife everything was fine but he should have known she always was right.
In the beginning, the deterioration of his health went slowly. Then it reached a point when it didn't seem to get any worse; he'd constantly be reminded of it by the shortness of breath and lingering aches that made it impossible for him to train or ride like he used to. For a while there he simply thought that it was as bad as it would get; that he'd live out the rest of his life with the proof of the attack like a man losing his hand or foot in war.
Now he truly wished that had been the case. Living out the rest of his life as a cripple somehow felt better than slowly feeling your body giving up on you. When Qoren visited King's Landing alongside Valyria and laid eyes on Viserys Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms, one of the most powerful men in the known world, he couldn't help but think it was a truly pitiful sight.
