[center][color=E8600C][h1]Gabriel Martell[/h1][/color]
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The past few nights in the Red Keep had been comfortable enough, but Gabriel was quickly becoming homesick. The sun in King's Landing was warm, but it was nothing compared to it in Dorne; and the sound of Blackwater bay's capped waves rolling onto the shore was different as well. At Sunspear, the beaches were among Gabriel's favorite places to visit in order to clear his crowded thoughts. Here, the shoreline was too cramped against the jagged cliffs of Aegon's Hill, and the water smelled and felt too foreign to him. And then there was the airflow, or lack thereof. Sunspear was far more open, with plenty of airways that welcomed cool breezes, venting the rooms with fresh atmosphere all year. The architecture and security of the Red Keep, however, strangled the airflow and he would often catch a strong whiff of the city's repugnant odor creeping its way through the choked currents.

Alas, he had little to really complain about. At least the other wards were getting along fine enough. He had heard stories about past rivalries and gruesome bloodshed among their ancestors. Recorded history was enough to make him worry about his own safety around them, but their first days together had been... remarkably pedestrian. A little more than one hundred years ago, the sons and daughters of the great houses would have drove daggers through each others' hearts had they all been forced into the same room together, regardless of guest right. Now, though, they were like long-lost relatives with odd quirks and ticks that merely rubbed each other the wrong way sometimes. Still, Gabriel remained distant from the lot of them. He had no connection or familial ties with any of them save for the Targaryens, and even the royal family was too far separated from him to be openly shadowing all the time. It would be unbecoming of him as a Martell.

In the same courtyard as the others that were focused on honing their skills before the start of the tourney, he had decided to practice his own gift. Whether archery would be an event of the tourney or not was not really of much concern, but he figured a bit of sport to start the day would be relatively appropriate to mark the day. With his black glazed weirwood recurve bow, Gabriel fired several volleys of arrows at a thatch target on the far end of the courtyard, safely away in a lane of his own, so as to not endanger the others that were training. Five arrows hit the center mark with a perfect [i]thwack[/i].

The tall Dornishman behind his right shoulder was carefully watching with keen eyes as Gabriel focused on his form, breathing, and draw. "No need to split the target in two, young prince," the man said. "Easy on the pull. Let her fly softly, and she'll still hit the mark."

The man's name was Mordyn, a master archer in his own right, and a faithful servant of House Caron that had accompanied Gabriel and Toran to King's Landing--along with the rest of the Martell entourage. When the bow had been gifted to Gabriel on his thirteenth nameday by the house's lord, Mordyn was appointed as Gabriel's mentor. Even though the young man was eager to show off his ever-strengthening skill, he still heeded the seasoned warrior's coaching.

After slowly exhaling and relaxing his muscles, Gabriel nocked another arrow and drew the string to a half-draw towards his usual anchor at the cheek. Aiming slightly higher, but barely enough to notice the difference by his eye, he compensated for the lesser power and then released. The arrow flew at a more pronounced arch, but landed exactly where Gabriel wanted it to go, forcing its way through the other bunched arrows already embedded in the target.

"Bravo, sir," Mordyn praised.

Gabriel sighed. [color=E8600C]"It doesn't quite feel the same,"[/color] the boy remarked.

"Arrows were never meant to fly fast and straight, young prince. They were designed to provide a more indirect approach to combat from a ranged vantage point. With almost any distance, the wise archer has the ability to strike his foe in any number of ways." Mordyn stepped around to stand before Gabriel and placed a finger on the young man's chest with a pressured push. "Whether that's through the heart...," he then pointed to Gabriel's throat, "through his airway...," at his forehead, "or through his skull. And an even craftier archer can miss the man, but kill him with the same arrow anyway."

Gabriel looked at him with a raised brow and demanded, [color=E8600C]"How is that possible?"[/color]

With a smirk, the old man stepped back around and said with a chuckle, "That's enough for today, young prince. I think it best to rest your bow arm now should you find a place for yourself in the tourney."