Santana frowned as she guided her sand steed along the narrow alley her party was traveling down. The horse, a beautiful, pure deep brown that matched Santana's eyes, had been a present for her fourteenth name day a week ago, and she had yet to settle on a name. The mare was easy enough to guide regularly, but the crowded alleys that served as streets in Sunspear made the horse skittish. Every now and then Santana ran a soothing hand over her mare's neck.
The head of her personal guard, Ser Jon Tames shouted commands as they cleared a path through the busy workings of the markets. He could never express it, but Santana knew he was annoyed with her, for it was her command that brought them out here in the first place. But she was bored in the palace, as she usually was (having run out of fresh books to read), and wanted some new material.
Ser Tames had offered to send someone – surely the princess didn't need to go for herself – but Santana itched to stretch her legs, to ride, to see her own city. Ser Tames had no choice but to agree to it, and arranged for a small guard to escort the young Martell.
As a bead of sweat trickled down her temple, Santana regretted wearing her hair down; her gorgeous black ringlets only added to the sweltering Dorne heat. She removed her riding gloves to wipe her sweaty hands dry. She felt a pang of jealousy as she passed a few children, not much younger than her, shirtless and dancing under a stream of dirty water that must have been runoff from a gutter higher up on the building. She envied their shrieks of delight as the water cooled them, even though it looked filthy.
A different shriek caught her attention on the other side of the street; one more fearful than joyful. She looked over, with a good vantage point from atop her mare, and found the source of the noise. A fat man came out of the nearest shop with a tight grip on a skinny girl's wrist. He was cursing at her as she cried and pawed at his hands, but he was too strong for her to break his grasp. As he pulled the girl towards a side alley a little bit in front of Santana's group, Santana realized the man's intentions.
"Ser Tames," Santana called for his attention. He was half a horse in front of her and turned around. Had he not noticed the girl's cries? Santana pointed towards where the man and the girl were about to disappear to.
"That man's about to rape that girl! You must stop him," she said, her voice not worried, but annoyed.
Tames' brow wrinkled. "Princess, she's nothing but a -"
"I don't care what she is. Bring her to me, and see that that man learns a lesson about dragging girls my age into alleyways," Santana donned the tone she'd heard her father use so often, and it did the trick.
Ser Tames motioned for two men of their guard to dismount. They did, and disappeared around the corner where the man had gone. Mere minutes later, her men (or really, her father's men), bearing the Sunspear emblem on their chests and real spears slung over their backs, led the girl to stand before Santana.
"What would you have us do with her, Princess?"
Santana looked down at the girl, really looking her over for the first time. Her skin was nearly pale as milk, her hair golden like sand by the sea. Santana was taken aback by the blueness of her eyes, reminding her of the stained glass panes in the Sept. She wore simple dress, and Santana noticed she was shaking.
"Are you hurt?" She asked, the concern in her own voice surprising her.
The girl shook her head 'no', and Santana felt relieved.
"What's your name?"
"Brittany Sand, Your Grace,"
The last name registered in Santana's mind.
"Ser Tames, she'll ride with you. We're almost back at the castle now, anyway."
The guards next to Brittany looked to Tames.
"Princess, you know how your lord father feels of the baseborn..."
Santana fixed Tames with a cool glare.
"I'm in need of a new handmaid, Ser, and I believe she will do just fine."
The knight considered her for a moment, weighing his position. Would his Prince be more upset at having a baseborn in his daughter's charge, or at the denial of his daughter's wishes? Tames shook his head, resigned.
"Yes, Princess."
The men guided Brittany onto the back of Ser Tames' horse, where she clung tentatively to his vest of boiled leather. Santana waited for the men to mount their horses again, and she watched Brittany's back carefully as they rode on.
Back at the castle, Santana dismounted easily and went over to help Brittany dismount before Ser Tames could even turn to do so. Santana thought the girl blushed, but it was hard to tell – now that they stood closer to each other, Santana could see smudges of dirt across pale skin. She didn't like that the girl was taller than her, but as soon as she was safely on the ground, Santana turned to her guard.
She directed the man holding a fresh stack of books to bring them to her quarters, her maid would take them from there. Santana thanked Ser Tames for accompanying her, and he only nodded before heading off with his horse to meet the stable boy that approached them. Two more boys came around to tend to the horses, and Santana was pleased to see the careful way one of them handled her mare. She really did need to name it soon, she mused.
"Come with me," Santana turned to the girl. Brittany looked around nervously, and Santana felt like a fool. She had brought this girl into her service without knowing anything about her, if she had a family that was waiting back for her in the city. Santana wasn't much for apologies, and she found herself uncomfortable as she turned back around to look at the girl.
"Um, would you like to serve me?" Her dark cheeks flushed at how awkward she felt, a rare feeling in her own castle walls. "I mean, do you have to go back? That man..."
Brittany took her time in answering, and when she did her voice was light and soothing. "I have a mother here, but she will worry maybe a day for me before I am no more than a memory." She thought some more. "And that man...well, I have no desire to return to him."
It was all the answer Santana needed, and she gave a curt nod before turning back around, aware of Brittany's soft steps behind her as she headed towards her room. Her mind raced, curious to learn more of the blonde, but for now she just wanted to get into a thinner, more breathable outfit. She had worn heavy pants and boots to ride, and her long locks clung to her neck with sweat. Even within the castle, made of stone and cooler than outdoors, she needed reprieve.
She found Tyla, her main servant in her outer chambers, organizing the new books she'd bought onto her already full shelves.
"Tyla, that can wait for now."
"Yes, Princess."
"This is Brittany. Show her to an empty maidservants room, please, and help her get washed up and into something more, fitting." Santana eyed the blonde's dirty clothes, and noticed the wear in her sandals. Brittany was tall and slim, but she looked meek as Santana gave instructions.
"And make sure she learns her way around, and the way things work here. She's going to be working with you now."
Tyla gave a small bow and nod of her head. "Yes, Your Grace." She motioned for Brittany to follow, and Brittany gave Santana a quick glance before turning to walk with Tyla. Once they had disappeared, Santana entered her bedchambers and stripped out of her riding clothes, pulling on a cotton dress, dyed deep green and only lightly decorated with simple stitches along the sleeves and neckline. She hated the pomp her Septa encouraged her to dress in.
Santana began to tie her hair up, her mind drifting back to the pale blonde girl. Brittany. Everything about her seemed strange, from her fair white skin to the slow way she thought before she spoke. Santana's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door.
"Who is it?"
"Mort, your lord father's squire, Princess."
"Enter," she called back, still examining herself in the looking glass on her wall, making sure her hair was in place. The boy, probably near her age, bowed nervously as Santana threw him a glance in the reflection of the glass. What kind of name was Mort, anyway?
"M'lord requests your presence at once, Princess."
"Did he say what for?"
The boy shook his head back and forth, and Santana fought the smile from her lips. Almost considered a man grown by law, and here he is terrified of his Prince's daughter.
"Thank you. I'll be there shortly."
It was a dismissal, but the boy remained. She could practically hear him gulp as she turned to face him.
"Your lord father asked me to escort you, Princess."
Her blood could only boil a second in anger before nerves took over. Had he already heard about the baseborn girl she took for her own? She knew she risked pushing Tames, but now her throat was dry with worry.
Her father, Prince Santiago Martell, was a stern man, even when it came to her. He held no luxury from her, but he did not stand for rules being broken. He also had no tolerance for bastard children. Santana's mother, Lady Marybyl Lopez, a noblewoman from the eastern lands of Dorne had passed away while giving birth to Santana, and Prince Santiago had fathered no children until three years ago, when he had remarried. That hadn't meant that he had not visited the pleasure houses at night – Santana was no fool – but he had taken great care not to give the world any more bastards.
She looked herself over once more before getting up to walk with Mort down to her father's study. The castle was quiet, and they were in his study soon enough. Her father sat at a large table, books open in front of him and two men across the table, who instantly stood when they saw it was Santana who entered the room. Santiago dismissed his men and his squire, and motioned for Santana to come closer. She stood in front of the table, her hands held together in front of her so they wouldn't fidget.
"I heard we came back with one more person than we left with today," her father's voice was deep but not harsh. Santana felt her face flush.
"Yes, father, I can explain -"
"Then please do." He steepled his hands under his bearded chin, waiting for Santana to go on.
Santana licked her lips, steeling herself to meet her father's dark eyes. She was his daughter, and her mother's daughter – she was not afraid to tell the truth and defend her actions.
"We saw a man, with a girl no older than me, father! I had the men with me take her from him."
"Was she yours to take?" His demeanor was still cool, but Santana grew flustered.
"He was going to rape her! If it'd been me, you'd have wanted me saved, I imagine." She scowled, and he managed a laugh, which surprised her.
"You are a true Martell, Santana. I wish your lady mother were here to see you now," the sadness in his voice was evident, and as quickly as the praise had come, it had been ruined for Santana. Guilt over her mother's death plagued her every day, for as long as she could remember. Her father cleared his throat, his tone returning to its usual rumble.
"Santana, my princess, you know there is no room for bastards in my castle."
She didn't know why, but tears stung the corners of Santana's eyes. She made sure her voice would not waver before she spoke.
"She has nowhere else. He'll surely hurt her worse if she goes back there, or if not him, someone else will. And it will be good for Tyla to have someone younger to help her. She grows old and slow." Santana spouted out excuses like running water. It will be good for me to have someone who's my age around as well, but Santana held her tongue as she thought that one.
Prince Santiago eyed her carefully. He sighed and laughed to himself again, shaking his head.
"If the city folk saw how easily I bend to your will, my princess, they'd cry for a new prince, one with a spine."
Santana controlled her grin as best she could. She wanted to thank her father, but she dared not speak.
"But Santana, if I hear of any trouble from this baseborn girl, you know I will not hesitate to dole out punishment as I see fit."
"Yes, my lord father." Santana bowed her head, a sliver of worry in her mind as she pledged on behalf of a strange girl she did not know.
"Now go, before I change my foolish mind. I'll send Septa Cass up to your chambers to help you prepare for the feast tonight."
Santana was mid-step towards the door when her father said 'feast'.
"Feast?"
"Yes, feast. We're having some honorable guests, and I think it's best if you're dressed in the true Martell fashion."
The princess stifled a groan, not daring to annoy her father after he'd been so surprisingly lenient with her. She conceded a mumbled "yes, m'lord father," and quickly left his study, her mind churning, wondering who was coming to Sunspear that he wanted so badly to impress.