(Diary of Dietrich Windsworn)
It’s always too hot here. With no ventilation or blasted windows, it’s just sixteen hours a day of that infernal ball of heat beating down on your face like so many drops of water. Water. W-A-T-E-R. I don’t really have much reason to write that word in Dorne. Prince Doran, bless that old coot, wouldn’t dare send us a droplet in times like this. With family coming in and out of Sunspear, once can’t help but feel like the Martells are busy these days.
But enough about the royalists and big shots, let’s talk about my day. I got up with the sun as usual, and set off to work collecting food. I headed down to the market, and Delia sold me a bundle of olives for half price because she said I have a “cute little face”. What she doesn’t know is I’ll be a man grown soon, and then she’ll be all out of things to call cute and/or little. So I did that. Later, I brought Hump with me to the watering hole, and we enjoyed a quick dip and sip before those damn guards with the pointy stabby things told us to “move or be moved.” Ugh, jackasses. Sometimes, I wonder if I could be a guard for the Martells. If it means getting to see Arianne and the Snakes every waking day, sign me the hell up. I swear, that family was just born with good genes. I suppose you reap what you sow.
I’m still torn up about Oberyn. The man always had nice things to say about the common people. He would bring his sister Elia into the streets, and they would dance topless as a newborn child for a while, until the inevitable peasant tried to cop a feel on the lady herself. I just can’t respect a fellow street dweller who insults our beautiful leaders in such a deeply personal way. It gives us all a bad name, and it’s not like we need more crap from the folks upstairs. I’ve always referred to the palace of Sunspear as “upstairs”, not necessarily because there are stairs inside, but because it feels like it’s always watching us, like parents in their rooms upstairs. Always watching, never interfering. At least it’s better than what I hear goes on in Westeros. One of the books I read mentioned how kings would have people brutally killed for simply getting too close. I complain about the heat and the hard living, but I like Dorne. I feel like we’re on the cusp of a big political shift, and if that means we don’t have to get involved in any wars overseas, count me in.
Anyways, back to my day. So I get my water, save some drops in my pouch, and head back home with Hump. The bastard gets a little feisty, and nearly drops me face first into a shockingly large puddle of shite. It was quite the experience. After that, nothing interesting really happened. I brought back the food and water, went running down to Hazzad’s house, and we kicked an old bundle of rags around for a few hours. Mama says I’m getting lazy, but anything is better than Maya’s typical day, which usually consists of: sleeping, bathing, flirting with men on the street, more sleeping, and more eating. Hey, it’s a living.
And then I came back inside, enjoyed the fruits of my labor, fed Hump, and sat down to read a book. I love having this time to catch up on things, but I miss being more busy. Ever since Baba left, I was supposed to be the man of the house. Turns out being the man of the house just means cleaning up after a shit-stained camel and lugging food back and forth.
But hey, I’d do anything for the family. I’d die for them.
Oh, and I polished my bow today. Both curves have a good angle now, and the string itself has excellent give and throw. I think I’ll bring it with me on the Meereen trip in a few days. I hear the Mother of Dragons is in town. I swear, I leave one hot place and head to another. Just once, I wish we took a trip to The Reach or Winterfell. I’ve always loved sailing ever since Baba brought us here so long ago. He said we were “getting back to our roots.” I dare you to find one actual living root in Dorne that doesn’t belong to a disgusting plant or parasitic creature. May The Smith guide my hand, The Father my decisions, The Mother my family, The Maiden my sister, The Crone my mind, and The Stranger…well, remove him from my bedchamber and bar him from our home. Time to do it all again tomorrow. Life goes on.