"Wait here, Gideon."
"As you wish," Gideon replied calmly, clasping his hands behind his back. He watched silently as Arriane turned and walked away.
Arriane arrived at her father's solar moments later, pausing briefly to compose herself before entering.
"Father," she greeted, the smile on her lips tight and forced.
"Arriane," Doran Martell responded. "You are back rather late. What can I do for you?"
"Father, during my excursion to the Water Gardens, I encountered a rather… unusual man," she began, "As is proper, I brought him back to Sunspear for your judgment."
"Trespassing in the Water Gardens?" Doran's expression remained neutral, but his fingers drummed lightly on the armrest of his chair. "The standard punishment is ten lashes. You hardly need my approval for that."
"Normally, yes," Arriane agreed. "But this man is far more than a mere trespasser."
"A noble then?"
"No," she admitted, shaking her head. "Or at least, not that we know of. Yet the quality of his arms and armor suggests considerable wealth in his homeland."
"And where is he from?"
"That's… difficult to say," she replied carefully.
"You didn't ask?"
"I did. He claimed to hail from a place he called Heiliges Römisches Reich or something of the sort."
Doran's brow furrowed at the unfamiliar name. "Strange. Is that somewhere in Essos?"
"No, he claims it is not. He strongly professes a faith that is common in his homeland, but I have never heard even the slightest whisper of it before."
"Hmm," Doran mused. "Unusual, certainly. But it does not exempt him from punishment. Here, he is just a man, and the punishment for trespassing remains ten lashes."
"Father, he wields magic," she said, her words deliberate, knowing they would catch his attention.
At this, Doran sat upright, his fingers ceasing their rhythmic tapping. His gaze sharpened. "Magic? Are you certain?"
"Yes," she replied. "When I first encountered him, he was bathed in radiant, golden light. His armor looks as if it were forged by the Smith himself, and his weapon... none of our strongest guards could so much as lift it. He claims it was gifted to him by his God and that only he may wield it."
Doran fell silent, his eyes narrowing as he processed her words.
"Very well," he said, at last, his voice measured. "I will meet this man. Have the guards escort him to me immediately."
—
The tension in the solar was thick as Gideon stood before Prince Doran. The Dornish prince, ever composed but with a hint of irritation in his voice, addressed the foreign knight. "I do not know how it is done in your homeland," he said, his words deliberate, "but it is customary to kneel before those of higher standing than your own."
Gideon inclined his head respectfully but made no move to bend his knee. "Apologies, Prince, but I kneel solely before God."
Doran's brows furrowed as his gaze fell upon the intricate details of Gideon's armor. Its golden sheen and flawless craftsmanship seemed almost otherworldly. The engraved writing and radiant aura that clung to the metal hinted at something far beyond the skill of any smith in Westeros—or Essos for that matter. He leaned forward slightly, his curiosity momentarily overriding his irritation.
"Your armor... it is unlike any I have seen," Doran noted, his voice softer now but still sharp. "No sigil, no maker's mark that I recognize. Is it from your homeland, this... Heiliges Reich?"
"This armor is from My God," Gideon answered calmly. "Forged with divine guidance. Every plate is sanctified, imbued with His blessing to serve His purpose."
Doran's lips pressed into a thin line. "A fine tale," he said, though suspicion lingered in his tone. His eyes drifted to the sword still strapped to Gideon's waist, and his expression darkened. "And yet you remain armed in my presence. Do you think that is wise? I tolerate much in Sunspear, but a stranger standing before me with a blade in hand is not a risk I take lightly."
Arriane, watching from her place by the window, tensed at her father's words. Gideon, however, remained steadfast and unflinching. He placed a hand lightly on the hilt of his sword, not as a threat but as if grounding himself.
"I understand your concern, Prince," Gideon said evenly. "But this weapon is no mere blade. It was entrusted to me by my Heavenly Father, a sacred symbol of my mission and my faith. No one but I may wield it, not out of pride but by its divine nature. Were I to set it aside, I would be forsaking the duty for which I was chosen."
Doran's lips tightened. "Which God do you speak of? You claim to be a knight but do not adhere to the Seven."
"My God is so much more than the false ones you mention," Gideon answered, his gaze unflinching.
The prince's eyes narrowed. "Careful. House Martell has always been a House of faith. I would advise you not to insult what others hold sacred within these walls."
"I do not intend disrespect," Gideon replied. "But I have never been one to hold back what I know to be true."
Doran studied him, his expression unreadable, before exhaling through his nose. "I will ignore your impertinence, for now. My daughter tells me you possess magic. Is this true?"
Gideon let out a slow sigh. "Not magic, Prince. I simply borrow the power of my Heavenly Father to perform acts in His name."
"Acts of what kind?"
"Acts of healing, deliverance, and mercy. To mend what is broken, both in body and spirit. To bring light to the darkest places."
Doran leaned back in his seat, scrutinizing the man in front of him. "Would you be willing to demonstrate this... power?"
Gideon inclined his head and gestured to Doran's legs. "Perhaps I can assist you with the ailment that afflicts you."
Doran's mouth twitched into a wry smile. "World-renowned maesters and healers have tried and failed to relieve me of my gout. And you claim you can do so on the strength of an unknown God?"
Gideon's voice softened, though his conviction remained firm. "It is not my strength, but His. I ask only your consent, Prince."
Doran was silent for a long moment, the weight of his decision clear. Finally, he gave a sharp nod. "You have my permission."
Gideon moved forward, kneeling by the prince's leg. He gently placed his hands over Doran's swollen, aching joints. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, his expression serene as he began to speak.
"O Lord, my Heavenly Father, we come before You in faith and humility. You are the Great Healer, the Maker of all things, and the One who binds what is broken. I ask now for Your mercy and healing power to flow through me. Let this man feel the touch of Your grace, so that he may know the truth and love of Your eternal presence. In Your holy name, Amen."
As Gideon's prayer ended, the air seemed to shift. A warmth radiated from his hands, spreading through Doran's leg. A soft, golden glow enveloped the area, growing brighter before fading gently into nothingness.
Doran gasped, his hand gripping the armrest of his chair as the pain that had plagued him for years suddenly eased, then vanished entirely. He flexed his foot tentatively, then rotated his ankle, astonishment and disbelief crossing his face.
"It... it is gone," Doran murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "The pain... It is as though it was never there."
Gideon rose to his feet, his expression calm and resolute. "Not by my doing, Prince, but His. As it always has been and always will be."
Arriane, standing nearby, gasped and rushed to her father's side, her eyes wide with astonishment. "Father... is your gout truly gone?"
Doran stared at his leg, his expression a mixture of disbelief and awe. Slowly, he shifted forward in his chair and began to rise. His movements were tentative at first, his legs trembling under the unfamiliar weight. He stumbled slightly, and Gideon reached out swiftly, steadying him.
"You have not used your legs properly for some time," Gideon said gently. "Although they are back to peak condition, your muscles will need time to adjust. I would recommend easing into movement—give it a fortnight, and you should regain your full strength."
Doran placed his weight cautiously on both feet, his breath catching as he realized the sharp, persistent pain he had endured for years was completely absent. Tears welled in his eyes from overwhelming relief. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Truly, I do not know how to repay such a gift."
Gideon shook his head, stepping back to give the prince space. "Once again, Prince, it is not me who you should thank. The Lord, in His infinite mercy, is the one who has healed you. I am merely a vessel for His will." He clasped his hands. "In regards to repaying this gift, you need not worry about it. I will be rewarded by My Lord once I venture to his side."
Doran stared at the knight, his expression flickering between surprise and curiosity. "You truly have no want for gold or land? You ask nothing for such a miracle?"
"I am wealthy enough in spirit," Gideon replied with an easy grace. "Those poor in the eyes of the world but rich in the eyes of God are truly the most blessed. The treasures of this world will fade to dust, but the treasures of Heaven endure for eternity."
Doran arched a brow. "So you disdain wealth, then?"
"No," Gideon admitted thoughtfully. "Admittedly, I was rather privileged in my homeland. I was blessed with the means to live comfortably and to train as a knight. However, my heart is not bound to these things. As Scripture teaches: 'Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.' It is this eternal wealth that truly matters."
Doran's gaze shifted to the small book Gideon carried, "Is that the Scripture you mentioned? The Word of your God? I never thought I would describe a book as beautiful but I have seen nothing like it."
"It is, Prince." Gideon's voice softened, his reverence for the tome evident as he held it up. "This is the Bible, the holy word of the Lord. Within these pages lies guidance, comfort, and wisdom for all who seek it."
Noticing Doran's lingering gaze on the Bible, Gideon's smile widened gently. "It seems this has caught your interest, Prince," he said softly. "If I may, allow me to offer a gift."
Before Doran could respond, Gideon muttered a quiet prayer under his breath. His hands moved purposefully above the sacred book, and a soft golden light radiated from his palms. Slowly, the glow coalesced into the shape of a second Bible, less intricate in design but still exquisitely crafted.
As the light faded, Gideon held the new Bible in his hands and offered it to Doran with a respectful bow of his head. "This is for you, Prince. It is my hope that this word will bring you clarity and peace. I recommend you begin your journey through its pages with your daughter tonight. There is much that she, too, might learn."
Doran hesitated for only a moment before taking the Bible, his fingers brushing over its textured cover as though to confirm its reality. His eyes flickered with wonder, "This... this is truly remarkable."
Gideon inclined his head once more. "The Lord's truth is truly remarkable, Prince. If there's anything within its pages you find unclear, I would be honored to guide you through it. I suggest beginning with the Book of Matthew. While reading cover to cover holds its value, the four Gospels together reveal the life of Jesus Christ, our Lord, and much wisdom can be found in their words."
After a moment of silence, Gideon stepped back slightly. "If I may," he continued, "might I request a room to rest? It has been a long journey, and today has brought me many surprises."
Doran glanced from the Bible to Gideon, nodding slowly. "Of course. Arriane," he called, his voice still subdued, "see that Ser Gideon is shown to suitable quarters."
Arriane stepped forward, her expression a mixture of lingering shock and fascination.
—
As they walked, Arriane's voice broke the silence, filled with curiosity. "You know, you forgot to mention you could heal incurable diseases and conjure books from thin air. I wonder if there's anything you can't do."
Gideon chuckled softly, his tone warm. "It is all thanks to His grace."
Arriane sighed, her voice teasing. "Humility's great, truly, but must you be so humble?"
"Would you rather I boast of feats that are not truly mine?" Gideon smiled lightly as they reached the room he'd be staying in.
"Well, a little pride wouldn't hurt you."
"To take pride in what is not mine would be dishonorable, and a falsehood. Perhaps, one day, you'll understand: everything I've done, I owe to God."
Arriane shook her head with a grin. "You know, I wonder if you could ever state anything extraordinary about yourself--without invoking your God's name first."
Gideon gave a thoughtful pause. "Well, I am quite a skilled fighter."
"Oh? Care to show us on the morrow?" Arriane's eyes sparkled.
"A little morning exercise wouldn't hurt," Gideon replied with a half-smile.
"I look forward to it, Gideon. I bid you good night."
"To you as well, Arriane."