Red As Blood And Cold As Sand

Mariah Martell

The little girl startled awake when she felt herself being lifted off. She often fell asleep on the carpet in her mother's solar and she loved it when her father carried her to bed, instead of a septa waking her up to take her to her chamber, so she opened her eyes for a moment to smile at him before drifting off again. But his voice startled her once again. "Mariah! Wake up!"

He never did that. Whenever she stirred, her father just smiled at her and said, "Go to sleep." Startled once again, she opened her eyes. Her father was carrying her down a long corridor, barely lit by a few torches. He was striding as fast as he did whenever he was headed for the Tower of the Sun, his face was veiled in shadows and Mariah felt suddenly, desperately scared. Behind him, other people walked. Women – she could tell by the sound of their footsteps. They wore slippers. She craned her neck to look behind.

"Stop squirming!" her father snapped and she froze. He held her so tight to stop her from moving that a clasp on his clothing dig into her belly painfully but Mariah was too scared to say a thing. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying – so deep that she felt the teeth actually puncturing the skin. She was too scared to say something about this as well. She buried her face in the chest of this angry stranger. If she couldn't see him, perhaps her father would come back.

They were now walking through something that returned the echo of their footsteps from all sides. Somewhere ahead, Mariah smelled a whiff of salt and wet earth while the faint unpleasant stench of a place with old air wrapped itself around her. She started choking but again didn't make a sound. And didn't look up.

Finally, fresh air and salt made their way into the throat that she had forced constricted. Her father put her down and she immediately swayed. He steadied her and she froze again, waiting for his anger.

He stroked her cheek and she almost wept with relief.

"Open your eyes," her father said. She did and blinked. They were on the coast now, near a looming dark shade. A ship. "I need you to listen to me."

Mariah swallowed and nodded. That was the Prince's voice. The one he used when he talked to his heir. He used it to tell her things that she didn't always understand, big and grown things. But she knew they were important.

"Dorne is in danger," her father said. "Our enemy, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, has decided to take it from us. He's ruining our lands and his armies are coming to us from three sides. If we can't stop him, he'll come here and ruin Sunspear."

The girl's eyes went wide. "Ruin Sunspear? That's terrible!"

Her father's face was set in a harsh mask. "It is. He wants to kill us or make us his bannermen, the way Lord Manwoody and Lady Jordeyne are mine. He'll never let you sit in my seat one day. He wants to take our sand steed and steal the fruit from our trees, leaving the land to burn and man and women to die."

This was getting more and more fearsome. Mariah stared at her father who sighed and shook his head. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, Father," she replied hesitantly.

"If you don't understand now, you soon will," he said and cupped her face between his palms. "It's very important that you aren't here if he comes. You'll go to your mother's family at Lys. When it's safe, I'll send for you to be brought back."

Mariah gasped, the monstrosity of it reaching her mind immediately. "Oh Father, should I?" she asked plaintively. "I don't want to go anywhere, Father!"

"I don't want you to either! But you must be taken away. Do you know why? Because you are Dorne's future. And you know I am right. The Prince's orders should be followed," he added sternly and drew a hand across her cheek.

Mariah nodded bravely and didn't cry when he leaned over to embrace her. She didn't cry even when her mother and aunt did. When her septa tried to take her hand, she shook it away angrily. She was big now. She was Dorne's future. Her father said so. She wasn't a little girl.

"What's his name?" she asked. She had to know who this evil man was so she could wish ill upon him with all she had.

Her father's face was stone as he stared at the ship that would take her away. "Daeron," he said. "Daeron Targaryen."