Words of Darkness; Words of Light: with @davos-allyrion
Oscar had gotten himself in many strange situations over the years due to impulsivity and because of his sister’s pamphlet Of Court and Kingdom. Oscar had traveled to odd places and spoken with various strange people to gather information to pass back to Abby, so when the Dornish delegation had swept into the Red Keep with whispers of brutality and murder all centered around a single person, it had seemed only logical to reach out and learn the truth for himself. There was a delicacy in doing so. Few were willing to admit their secrets to a stranger and besides, it felt wrong to develop a sense of trust with someone only to abuse it later. Usually, Oscar used these writing relationships to learn a person’s personality, ask about the rumors that naturally stirred up and judge based on their reaction how likely they were to be true. At times it could be difficult, but Oscar liked to think he’d become quite good at it.
Except for when it came to Davos. Each new letter brought a tale wilder than the last. Whenever Oscar asked about a new rumor, Davos was quick to confirm it and spin the tale into something even more exaggerated. Normally, Oscar would have assumed the other man was messing with him and simply playing up the rumors that surrounded him for his own amusement, except there was often a twist of cruelty that crept into Davos’s words that made Oscar feel like some of the things Davos told him were true. It was clear the other man hadn’t done everything people whispered about, but even if he’d done a quarter of it, that was enough to make Oscar a little scared.
Any logical person would have cut off the relationship by now, gradually dragging out the space between letters so as to not cause offense. Yet, Oscar always found himself ripping open Davos’ letters with a dark sense of curiosity and writing back in a timely fashion. Davos had a way of learning strangely accurate information about people from all across the Seven Kingdoms, sometimes things Oscar himself hadn’t even heard a whisper about. It made him feel a little sick to think that Davos had probably heard all the rumors about him as well, but Oscar did his best to ignore that. He often told himself he kept writing to Davos for Abby’s sake in order to gain these random bits of information, but if he was honest with himself, Oscar was too interested in whatever strange things were happening at Godsgrace to quit writing quite yet.
Dear Lord Davos,
Your last letter was, as always, very interesting. I would have you know the rumor you heard about me almost killing another boy in the training yard for insulting my brother is mostly exaggerated. I only broke the boy’s nose and frankly, I believe he deserved it. I suppose I should not even bother asking if the stories you’ve told me about your own training days are true or not, though I can’t help but want to ask again anyway. Perhaps if I ever journey down to Dorne we could spar together, though maybe that is a dangerous proposition if I want to keep all of my organs where they belong.
I imagine you have already heard, in the way you always do, that a marriage might be in my future. It is a perfect match in its own way, and my father is so relieved he has started speaking to me again. You’re lucky your murderous infant gaze was vile enough to strike your father dead on the spot because many fathers don’t like it very much when you turn out differently than they’d hoped. Yes, I’ve heard that rumor about you and no, I do not think it’s true though please feel free to try and convince me it is if you so desire.
I hope you are well. I hear much about your murderous rages and evil blood spells, but less on your happiness. I have spoken with a man whose mother is from Dorne and apparently she always says the most beautiful stars hang in the skies of Dorne. I don’t know if that’s true, but sometimes here in the Riverlands I enjoy sleeping on the balcony of my room underneath the stars. Before you say anything, yes I know that’s a wonderful way to get murdered by assassins or thieves, but as a lord, surely you’ve felt the weight of your position and wanted to escape it all just for a moment.
I do not know what it’s like in Dorne, but even for me as a second son the weight of expectation can be crushing. I apologize if I’ve admitted or assumed too much but it has been quite a tumultuous time lately.
Your (potential?) friend,
Oscar Tully
P.S. If you haven’t spent much time lately watching the stars, you should. At the very least, you’ll be able to appreciate the darkness more after seeing them shine.
To Oscar Tully, Second Son of Riverrun (and aspiring breaker of noses),
Your letter, as ever, was a welcome reprieve from the monotony of ruling. Let me first offer my congratulations on your restraint. A broken nose is a mercy compared to what most boys in training yards deserve. If your brother was truly insulted, then I see no fault in your actions—though I suggest next time you aim lower. Men are far less insufferable when they’ve fewer teeth to wag with.
As for my own training days, I am not surprised that my reputation has reached even the Riverlands. You ask if the stories are true, so I will tell you plainly: most of them are. But the truth, as you know, is often uglier than the tales. I learned quickly that in a place like Dorne, mercy is as rare as water. Sparring with me, Oscar, would be a dangerous proposition indeed—not because I am cruel by nature (though many would claim otherwise), but because, as a second son myself, I have little patience for the pomp of boys who think they know how to hold a sword.
A marriage in your future? How delightful. I can only imagine your father’s relief—whether at your bride’s temperament or your rare willingness to comply. Either way, I wish you well—though not too well. A life of perfect harmony would rob your letters of their charm.
As for my own father, you honor him too greatly. His death, I assure you, had nothing to do with me—at least, not directly. He fell ill after my brother’s disappearance, which, I must clarify yet again, I did not orchestrate. Vile blood spells? Murderous rages? Such accusations sound like the idle gossip of northern maesters with too little sun and too much imagination. But let me ask you this: if the rumors were true, would you really want me to confirm them in a letter? Perhaps when you visit Godsgrace, I will show you the truth. Or perhaps I will let you leave wondering.
You write of stars and balconies, of longing for freedom. I cannot decide whether you are naive or bold to sleep so exposed. If assassins have not taken you yet, perhaps they find you too amusing to kill. Still, I cannot fault your reasoning—or their entertainment. The weight of expectation is unbearable at times, though your station shields you more than you think. In Dorne, the stars are indeed as beautiful as you’ve heard—fierce, untamed, and burning all the brighter for the vast emptiness surrounding them. Perhaps they remind me of what I wish to be. Or perhaps I merely like the quiet of the desert night.
Should you ever wander this far south, Oscar, I will show you the stars myself. But be warned: should you grumble too much about the heat, I’ll leave you in the dunes to fend for yourself. Consider it a lesson in resilience.
Your friend (as much as you allow),
Davos, Lord of Godsgrace
P.S. I have stared at the stars many nights, and I find they never look the same twice. If they bring you comfort, then do as I do: keep a dagger close and a hawk at your feet. Some things are worth risking the darkness for.
Davos held the latest letter in his hand, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Poor Oscar Tully. The boy was hopelessly curious, and Davos found it endlessly entertaining. At first, he had responded to the letters out of boredom—a lord with a reputation like his rarely found correspondents worth the ink. But Oscar? Oscar was fun.
The lad’s curiosity was insatiable, his letters filled with a mix of dread and fascination. Davos could almost picture him now, seated in some dimly lit corner of Riverrun, hands trembling slightly as he tore open the wax seal, bracing himself for the mysteries contained within. There was something endearing about Oscar’s earnestness, his unrelenting need to uncover truths best left buried. In a world mired in posturing and politicking, that kind of wide-eyed determination was rare. It almost made Davos fond of him.
Almost.
Oscar’s latest questions had grown sharper, probing deeper into the whispers surrounding Godsgrace, but Davos had no intention of giving him a straight answer. Where was the sport in that? Crafting his replies had become a game: spinning riddles, weaving shadows, always hinting but never confirming. If the boy wanted answers, he’d have to dig for them himself. In the meantime, Davos would enjoy playing the role of the dark lord cloaked in rumors.
“You’re smiling,” Nymeria observed, her tone tinged with the surprise of someone who’d just seen a wolf sprout wings.
“No, I’m not,” Davos replied, rubbing at his face as though he could erase the evidence.
“You never smile,” Anders chimed in from beneath Nymeria, who had been perched comfortably on his lap for what felt like hours, the two of them intruding on Davos’s rare moments of solitude.
“Don’t you two have better things to do than stare at my face? Go make an heir. Break a bone. I don’t care.” He waved a hand dismissively as he rummaged through his desk drawers, searching for the perfect token to enclose with his reply. His fingers closed around a hawk’s feather. Yes. That would do nicely.
“He’s writing to the Tully boy again,” Anders whispered—or at least attempted to, his voice too loud to qualify as anything discreet. “Last time, he sent a lock of his own hair with the letter.”
“Shall I gouge out your eye and send that next?” Davos shot back without missing a beat, more affected than he’d like to be.
Of course, he wouldn’t. Blood would ruin the ink, and decay had a way of spoiling even the best of letters. No, Davos preferred to let the rumors swirl, feeding the fire just enough to keep the embers glowing. As long as Oscar Tully kept writing, Davos would ensure he stayed entertained.
Dear Lord Davos of Godsgrace (though perhaps it is your grace that matters more than the gods),
I suppose it should be my duty to sway you against violence in all its forms, but doing so would make me a hypocrite as I often mourn having allowed the boy to leave the training yard with his teeth intact. Noses can be fixed, but lost teeth are a more permanent situation. Then again, I endured enough chaos and rumors about my violent nature when I limited myself to the nose so maybe it all worked itself out for the best.
Luckily for us both, it is not ego that drives me to say I am adept with a sword but simple practice and dedicated training. Dorne may be lacking in its mercy, but I am not. As long as you promise not to disembowel me out of anger, I promise to keep your inevitable defeat between us. I enjoy your fearsome reputation too much to allow it to be ruined by a training yard defeat. And if I am wrong and you do end up besting me, then I will simply have to train with you until I’m confident in my skills again.
I thank you for your well wishes, though I will assuage your worries. I promise to always remain at least somewhat tormented for your amusement. I am an expert at finding new ways to get myself into trouble and at finding new things to worry about. I will not bore you with all my worries, but I will simply say this marriage will bring me security but not happiness or even love. I probably should not admit such a thing to you, but I feel you must already know why so there is no point in lying about it.
I am sorry to hear about your father. I do not know what kind of man he was, but losing family is difficult no matter what emotions you feel for them. I won’t press you about your brother because I imagine the topic brings you pain and while I would like answers, I find myself strangely not wanting them if they are hurtful for you to divulge.
I wouldn’t mind hearing confirmation through a letter, though I must admit I might not believe it even if you did admit your secrets to me. Also, when I visit Godsgrace? Who said I would be visiting you in that isolated place? I may be reckless, but I hold some amount of sense. I would hate to see my own name added to the tally of those who have disappeared there, whether through the desert’s cruelty or your own.
In fact, I recently heard a tale of a messenger from Highgarden who became lost in the sands of Dorne. A tragic story, though perhaps you simply tried to teach him a lesson in resilience and found him wanting. I will not pretend the Riverlands is a harsh place, but even I have seen how the comforts of the Reach do not always prepare men for the real world so there is a part of me inclined to believe your words when you say he simply never arrived. Either way, though I maybe shouldn’t admit it, I trust your judgement in the matter. I will leave the meaning of that statement up to you.
One good thing about becoming familiar with the stars is that even in the most unfamiliar of places, they’re willing to show the path forward. If I were to ever find myself so far south, I suppose I would simply have to follow their path until they led me to you.
Your friend (because I have decided by now that’s what we are),
Oscar Tully
P.S. I thought it was time for me to include a token of my own with my letter. I’ve gifted you a knight from one of my favorite chess sets. People often think the Queen and King are the most important pieces on the board, but the cleverest player knows it’s the knight who is often the most effective because they are overlooked and can reach places the other pieces cannot.
—--
Oscar carefully enclosed his newest letter to Davos into an envelope and sealed it with wax. One thing he hadn’t mentioned was that he had given Davos a knight from one of his favorite chess sets carved from emerald. He wasn’t sure what had driven him to give Davos that particular piece when he had so many other chess sets that were of less value. Knowing his love of the game, chess sets were a popular gift for lords to send to Riverrun when it was Oscar’s name day. He could have given Davos a piece from any of those but he had chosen the emerald one anyway, maybe exactly because it meant the most to him. Davos also reminded Oscar of a knight, not the kind in Westeros but the ones in chess. Knights didn’t move in straight lines like the other pieces and they were able to jump over obstacles in their way. A clever player could use an overlooked knight to lay a trap and blindside someone too focused on the supposed important pieces to see the danger right under their nose. Though Oscar was forced to admit he didn’t really know the other man, he had a sense that was how Davos operated.
Knowing that and what he suspected of Davos, Oscar knew his newest impulse was pure madness. Davos’ words about visiting Godsgrace hadn’t truly been an invitation and even if they had been, it would be madness for Oscar to go there. Who knew how many fools exactly like him Davos had lured down to Dorne with the promise of answers to the mysteries that surrounded him? He hadn’t even promised he would tell Oscar anything if he did show up, but one thing was becoming clear: Oscar was never going to learn anything through their letters. He couldn’t tell through Davos’ words whether he was lying or not, so even if he did confess everything to him, Oscar would never know. In person though, perhaps Oscar could actually learn something.
He could admit that his curiosity had long since surpassed anything required by Of Court and Kingdom. This had started to become a personal obsession, but that didn’t mean the answers weren’t important. Who was Davos truly? From the letters they had exchanged, Oscar couldn’t believe he was the monster everyone said he was, but he would never know for sure unless he met the other man.
Oscar tried to tell himself he needed to be smart. Showing up unannounced would be a great way to get murdered without anyone ever knowing what had happened to him. He wasn’t going to travel to Godsgrace to meet with Davos. He hadn’t even been invited.
Yet as Oscar glanced out his window at the night sky, he couldn’t let go of his curiosity or his desire to find out what it would be like to watch the stars at Davos’ side.
