All: No real power behind this move, although Doran will continue investigating on his own.

untold: To be fair, only educated Essosi would have recognized a sorrowful man's phrase. They are extremely rare in Westeros, and the only time they appear in the books is to try and kill Daenerys in Astapor.

The Dornish Dragon

It had been some time since Nymella Toland hadn't seen the Water Gardens.

The lady of Ghost Hill had fond memories of that place when she was fostered there, during simpler times. Times when she wasn't the lady of Ghost Hill, and just a young girl looking how to best cause mischief in the pools of the Water Gardens.

Then her father died, and suddenly the weight of the world now hung on her shoulders. She had hoped to dodge these responsibilities. After all, her brother Vincent was much better at ruling than she was.

Instead, she had fancied herself princess-consort of Dorne. She had befriended the current prince, Doran, during her fostering, and they had remained close. Her mother Loreza, had seen the advantages in a Toland match, and was ready to give her approval.

But Doran, like all Martells, was as hot-blooded as his ancestors. He openly defied his mother, and rejected any marriage offers.

Nymella didn't take it badly. Doran had always said that he would marry on his own terms, and not let it be dictated by her mother, who already had plans to wed both his sister and brother as well.

But when Loreza Martell sent Doran to Essos to "think it over", the last thing that she expected was for her eldest son to return with a bride. And by then, her health was too frail for her to protest.

Two moons after Doran's return, Loreza Martell passed away, and Doran became Prince of Dorne, and married his Norvoshi woman.

When Nymella met her, she knew exactly why he had done so. Princess-consort Mellario was extremely beautiful, generous and kind. Not at all what she had expected from a lady of the Free Cities, whom generally acted as pompous brats, thinking themselves descendants of the Valyrian gods themselves.

Nymella could see how happy they were together, and her last hopes of becoming princess-consort died then and there.

Instead, Nymella's father Maron betrothed her to a Stormlander, Julian Estermont, a cousin of the Estermonts of Greenstone.

Indeed, the Tolands had long been an exception amongst the Dornish on the coastline, or as the northerners called them, the "Salty Dornish". A word invented by Daeron Targaryen when he invaded Dorne.

The Young Dragon had divided them into the Sandy, Stony and Salty Dornish. While it was accurate in the general sense of the word, it was also a gross generalisation of Dornish culture. For example, while House Gargalen and Wyl were Salty Dornish, they were much further apart from the Tolands than the Tolands to the Fowlers or Blackmonts, for example.

The Tolands, unlike the Jordaynes to the west, and the Wyls further north, did not have olive skin and dark hair.

Instead, their skin was light, like that of the Stony Dornish and the Yronwoods. But what really set them apart from any other house in Dorne – or the Seven Kingdoms for that matter – was their bright, red, hair, one that made the Free Cities jealous as even the best dyes failed to replicate it.

House Toland had kept their lighter skin and red hair through the generations because of their relative isolation compared to the Dornish houses. House Toland usually married with Stormlanders, such as the Estermonts, Conningtons or Tarths due to their privileged trade links, as well as northern Dornish houses, such as the Blackmonts, Fowlers and Manwoodys.

As such, their light skin never gave way to the darker shade that other Dornishmen such as the Jordaynes and Martells, their closest neighbours, had, and their red hair had continued to be passed through the generations.

Nymella herself had six children, and all of them bar her youngest, Mara, had bright, red, hair. Mara having instead inherited her father's brown hair.

Her brothers had also inherited this bright, red, hair, which made their face look like an unending fire was alight atop of them.

She missed them all dearly.

As she married and had her first child, war came to Dorne, and with it, it took her brothers, who looked to gain glory by defending the realm against the rebels.

Vincent, Gerold and Alvin, all left her to guard Ghost Hill, and none of them ever came back. They were all slain at the banks of the Trident, like so many others, and their bones likely still lied there, for they were never identified.

She liked to believe that they fought and died side by side, as they always had during their sparring sessions. When news came of their deaths, Nymella's younger brother Lucian had wanted revenge, and stood next to Prince Oberyn when he cried for vengeance.

Nymella understood his pain, but it was war. Her brothers always knew that there was a chance they would never come back. And she would not have lost Lucian, a boy of four-and-ten, to another folly.

As such, she drew the ire of many, who took her as craven, who sought to protect her Stormlander husband from their "vengeance".

Vengeance or not, Nymella would never have let any of these fools harm a hair on her husband's head. As such, she defended herself viciously. Her husband was a Toland, and a Dornishman. He was not one of the Usurper's lackeys, nor did he kill her brothers at the Trident.

Her husband was guilty of some things, but a traitor and a murderer he was not.

As such, for her dogged defence of her husband and her willingness to humiliate some lords in the process, loathing slowly became respect, and soon enough everyone learnt to not cross the path of the "Dornish Dragon" lest you be burnt along the way.

Her younger self would laugh at such a moniker.

But as time took its toll, she saw the births of Teora, Vincent, Nymeria, Daryon and Mara, and began to take pride in her moniker.

Her recent pregnancy had stopped her from involving herself too much in the affairs of Dorne however, but she could not help but notice something was changing rapidly.

Indeed, reports from Yronwood came about a miraculous powder that could cure infections and diseases alike. And when she saw who came up with these ideas, she nearly couldn't believe it.

What's more though, is that prince Quentyn contacted her first, with plans. Plans for the construction of new ships to defend the Dornish coastline. Built out of northern timber, they would be sturdier and faster than the old, rugged, ships, that Dorne currently possessed.

While the slow decrease of trade from the free Cities made her raise some eyebrows, the fact that Dorne was starting to produce everything locally compensated greatly for it. The shipyards of Ghost Hill had work once more, and the new production of glass, perfumes, soaps and iron, combined with the improved culture of olives, grapes, cotton and almonds made coin flow into the coffers of House Toland. And all she had to do was keep the Free Cities from getting too involved in their affairs by signing various deals, buying their spices at slightly higher prices than the usual, and of course pitting them against each other instead of against Dorne. Child's play.

As such, when prince Quentyn arrived at Ghost Hill on his way to Sunspear, she had taken the time to talk to him. And although she couldn't decipher how the prince got his ideas, she could see some of his father in him. A wild spirit, like all Martells, but one with ambition. And at least this one acted on his promises of sending Dorne to new heights. Seeing the prince with her eldest daughter had rekindled hopes of a match between houses Martell and Toland, but she quickly remembered how these hopes had ended the first time she'd harbored such thoughts.

Teora was soon sent to Sunspear, and by the news she'd gotten, her daughter had gotten better. She had often worried for her health, and had asked Valena to convince the prince to see what was wrong. The prince had then offered to keep Teora in Sunspear for a year, to see how she would do there, and by all accounts, Teora was having less and less dreams and visions, as she called it.

When news came a few moons later of princess Arianne's disinheritance, Nymella could hardly say that she was surprised. The princess was already on a knife's edge as prince Quentyn's popularity was extremely high amongst both the smallfolk and most of the nobility, and only the Rhoynish succession laws protected her.

When news came to Ghost Hill from her brother Lucian that the princess had had the bastard of Godsgrace try and assassinate her brother in fear of him taking action against her, she buried any regrets she held of her initial decision to applaud prince Doran's declaration.

Lucian, on the other hand, was more measured. Despite liking prince Quentyn, he felt as this would set a dangerous precedent and invite more Yronwood presence at court.

These fears were soon squashed as nothing changed, and instead, the changes that prince Quentyn had started in Western and Northern Dorne spread through the kingdom like wildfire, and Yronwood actually lost most of the influence he had, by losing the monopoly on Quentyn's powder, which was now being made by about every large Dornish house.

So, when a few moons ago, she received a runner from House Uller, detailing a conspiracy to remove prince Quentyn from power and restore princess Arianne to the position of heir, she laughed.

Then she read the letter again, and saw that Uller was deadly serious.

She knew that half the Ullers were mad, and that the other half were worse, but this was utterly ridiculous.

Not only was princess Arianne disinherited because she nearly had her own brother killed, but killing off prince Quentyn would mean dire consequences for Dorne.

For one it would probably mean civil war. Even if Yronwood had lost some influence, both his heir and the second in line to Yronwood, along with the son of one of his most loyal bannermen, were in Sunspear and close to Quentyn. With Quentyn gone, not only was the security of his companions in jeopardy, but Yronwood would call his banners even if it wasn't.

Secondly, Doran would never let the murder of his son go unpunished, and neither would Oberyn. She could see the lengths to which they were willing to go for their dead sister, and nothing would save the would-be assassins from their wrath for killing a Martell.

Thirdly, all of Dorne's advancements would be reduced to ashes. The current improvements could be kept, but most of them relied on the prince himself to improve, streamline and coordinate, and she doubted either princess Arianne or prince Trystane could replace him in that regard.

As Dorne was slowly ridding itself of its reliance on the Free Cities, and slowly enriching itself, these idiots would have stopped it all.

And when Nymor Allyrion, one of her childhood friends, came and tried to sway her to Uller's cause, she had had enough. She was ready to see who was involved in this folly, and used every way of getting information out of him, including when the attack would take place.

When she had gotten all that she wanted, she had Nymor placed under arrest, and sent a runner to the Water Gardens and Sunspear, as well as a raven. Unfortunately, she was already too late to stop the assassination from taking place.

Thankfully, the prince escaped the attempt, despite it reportedly being done by a Sorrowful man. And when Oberyn Martell came, she thought that the prince would kill Nymor on the spot.

Instead, the Allyrion had an unfortunate accident that day, as he was being transferred to Sunspear. It is said he tried to escape, and in doing so, fell into a ravine and broke his neck.

The fact that he was bound and gagged for the whole journey, and that the ravine was more like a cliff, didn't bother her. Accidents tended to happen around the Martells whenever you harmed a member of their family. She just hoped Ryon wouldn't miss him too much.

It all brought her to this point, as she made her way through the Water Gardens to watch the trial of the rest of the conspirators.

This was a Dornish trial, so therefore, there were five judges, not the usual three that the Seven Kingdoms would see. There would be three representatives of the nobility, one representative of the Faith, and one representative of either the smallfolk or the Orphans of the Greenblood, depending on the case.

Here, due to an Orphan being on trial, there was an elder of the Orphans, Symon, that would be a part of the judges. Alongside him would be Septon Wyland, of the Sept of Sunspear, as well as Prince Doran Martell, Ser Myles Manwoody, and herself. Hardly a fair panel, especially since she would serve as both a witness and a judge, but still, prince Doran was not in the mood to give this scum a fair trial.

"Lady Toland." A voice called her.

"My prince." She smiled as she recognized the voice that had called out.

Her eyes widened. The man before her was not at all what she had expected.

She thought that prince Doran had been plagued by illness and grief, and was a broken man, unable to walk or ride. Yet, the man in front of her was as handsome as ever, with his brown eyes and dark, short, beard. He had a cane, alright, but he never seemed to be in need of help as he stepped closer, his Norvoshi guard shadowing him closely.

"Now, my lady." He smiled. "No need for such formalities between friends. Call me, Doran, like we used to."

"Then, Nymella it is, my friend." She smiled. "You've gotten better, Doran, what has gotten into you?"

"I've never felt so alive." The prince of Dorne confessed. "A few moons ago I could barely walk. Now, I only use my cane because I still need it to keep my balance, but the pain has gone."

"I'm glad to hear it." She nodded, as two figures came forwards.

One she instantly recognized as Prince Oberyn, but it took some time for her to recognize the other as Prince Quentyn. Indeed, the gash on the prince's face had made him unrecognizable for a moment, before noticing the short, dark, hair and the Martell looks.

"Prince Oberyn, Prince Quentyn." She nodded. "I hope you are well. I am sorry the news came so late."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Lady Toland." Prince Quentyn shook his head. "I should thank you, instead. If it weren't for you, we'd still be looking for the men who did this. My uncle told me…the lengths to which you went to find out who was involved. You needn't have gone that far."

"Nonsense." She waved him off. "The Tolands are thankful for all that you've brought us. We're loyal, and anything I did, I did out of my own volition."

Prince Quentyn nodded, although he still seemed uneasy. She could see why, considering the lengths she had gone to get the list of conspirators.

"How has Ellaria been taking the news?" she finally asked.

"Not very well." Prince Oberyn admitted. "She feels disgusted and betrayed by her father, who thought that he'd be able to coerce her into pushing me to reinstate Arianne as heir. This trial will be hard for her."

Nymella nodded. She felt pity for the Sand girl, who had been close to being dragged into something a lot bigger than she'd have expected. But now, her father was likely going to see his head roll.

"We need to go." Prince Doran cut their conversation short. "The trial is about to begin."

Prince Oberyn and prince Quentyn nodded and took their seats on the side halls, as the Gardens had been transformed into a makeshift courtroom, with the judges standing on an elevated ground, in the middle of a courtyard where palm trees would usually stand.

The pool in the middle of the yard had been drained, and made way to a makeshift rack where the accused would be presented.

Nymella took Doran's hand, and sat on the chair to his left, as the ruling prince of Dorne took the centre. Ser Myles sat to his left, with elder Symon sitting next to the Manwoody knight. As for her, she would have to contend with Sunspear's septon to her left.

Meanwhile, quite the attendance had filled the halls to the left and right of the gardens, with half a hundred people sitting under the arches. She noticed prince Oberyn on the right, holding his paramour's hand, while Lord Symon Santagar sat to his left.

A little further was prince Quentyn, who was flanked by Cletus Yronwood and his younger brother, Trystane. In front of him, on the hall directly in front of him, sat his sister, Arianne, who was flanked by the blonde daughter of prince Oberyn, who in another world could very well be sitting on the accused's bench, and Ser Manfrey Martell, as solemn as ever.

Then, the accused were brought in.

They trickled into the courtyard one by one.

Harmen Uller, Mors Gargalen, Andrey Dalt, Garin of the Greenblood, and, closing the march, Gerold Dayne. All dead men walking.

The Martells didn't forgive an attack on their blood.

If by some miracle they were found innocent, or Oberyn Martell lost his trial by combat should the accused ask for one, then accidents would happen. Just like the one that befell Nymor Allyrion.

Prince Doran stood up, much to the shock of the assembly, without his cane.

"Lord Uller, Lord Gargalen, Ser Andrey Dalt, Ser Garin of the Greenblood and Ser Gerold Dayne. You stand accused of hiring an assassin to kill Prince Quentyn Nymeros Martell. Who will stand in your defence?"

"I will." Said the lord of Salt Shore.

"Very well, Lord Gargalen." Prince Doran nodded, and sat down, motioning for his brother to take the stand.

Prince Oberyn stood up, and went to take the stand in the middle of the courtyard. All he did was to list the accusations once more, and explain how he got the information. Nymella knew all of this, and only half-listened.

What she did listen to, though, was then the accused's response to these accusations.

"Lord Gargalen." Prince Doran motioned. "What have you to say against these accusations?"

"They are false." The lord of Salt Shore vehemently protested. "The evidence presented is a lie. The list of names is false and the ship that linked Salt Shore and Tyrosh only contained the usual payments in gold for spices and silks. This is a plot to get rid of those who still support the princess Arianne's claim to the Sun throne."

"Princess Arianne has no claim." Doran answered simply. "By my word."

"As you say, my prince." Lord Gargalen. "But this is certainly not our doing. We are being framed by someone wishing to silence our voices."

"Have you someone in mind?" Elder Symon asked.

"Lord Yronwood no doubt wouldn't mind see his influence grow at court…" Nymella rolled her eyes.

"These are serious accusations, lord Gargalen." Nymella cut in, smirking. "I hope you have proof of this."

Lord Gargalen mumbled a few words as the rest of the accused grew uneasy. They clearly hoped to have the support of the people, but every time that the lord of Salt Shore took the stand, he was jeered and booed so much that prince Doran himself had to stop the crowd.

"My prince…" Lord Gargalen mumbled. "We understand that two people have pointed to us. However, one isn't here."

"Lord Trebor Jordayne is currently overseeing the launch of the new Dornish fleet and as such has sent Ser Yarnys Muskgroove to stand in his place." Prince Doran continued. "And Lady Nymella Toland is here should you wish to ask any further questions."

"As a matter of fact, I do." Lord Gargalen grinned. "Lady Toland's testimony relies entirely on the information given to her by a dead man. Do you deny it, Lady Toland?"

"Well, that and the raven from Lord Uller asking me to join in a conspiracy to restore the true heir to the Sun throne and get rid of Prince Quentyn, yes." She snapped at him. "And a dead man, who had the time to sign and seal a confession."

Nymella reminded lord Gargalen that Nymor Allyrion had signed a confession. Under duress of course, and possibly hours before his death.

"Yes, a man signs a confession, and then dies only a day afterwards…" Lord Gargalen mused. "It's very convenient, isn't it?"

"If it makes you feel any better, I do have this letter." She smiled as she pulled out a parchment. "Ser Nymor wanted to send it to Lord Uller but never got the time. Shall I read it?"

Lord Gargalen went pale.

"I'll do it whether you like it or not, to be fair." She smiled. "It reads:

Lord Uller. You will be pleased to hear that I have managed to sway Lady Toland to our cause. I have explained to her the details of our plan and arranged for her to transfer gold to our cause. Prince Quentyn's days are numbered. Signed, Nymor Allyrion.

Now, it seems that everything he confessed to was the truth."

"That letter and his confession were done under duress!" lord Gargalen continued to attack.

"Trust me, lord Gargalen." Lady Nymella smiled. "Nymor Allyrion was most definitely not under duress when he told me everything."

"Explain." Ser Myles raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's amazing the things you can get men to say when you suck their c…"

"Alright, lady Toland, no need for such details." The septon to her left blushed.

As laughs were heard in the halls, lord Gargalen was fuming.

"You turned your back on the sanctity of marriage for…"

"I did my duty for Dorne, which you have evidently failed to do, my lord." She ripped into the lord of Salt Shore as if he was made of paper. "What happens between my husband and I concerning these matters is no concern of yours, and my husband would have voiced his disapproval publicly if he had any problems with my methods, which he didn't. While he was abed with a very expensive Lysene whore I had paid for him to do whatever he pleased with, I sucked the information out of your pretty Allyrion pet.

In the future, should you have one at all, I suggest not committing treason against Dorne, and I promise you, lord Gargalen, it will go much smoother for you."

By then, the whole crowd was snickering and lord Gargalen was blushing furiously, trying to keep his composure as his restraints stopped him from trying to strangle her.

Not that he'd get within two feet of her without getting a dagger in his eye, of course.

"Erm…after this, my prince…" elder Symon stood. "I too have a witness to call up."

"Please do so, Elder Symon." Prince Doran acknowledged.

Ser Symon bowed respectfully.

"I call to the stand, Garin of the Greenblood."

The crowd went silent, as the accused's faces turned white.

The Orphan slowly slid away from the accused and stepped forward. Nymella frowned.

So, this is the man that the Martells would spare, then. Well, perhaps a life at the Wall would be better than no life at all.

"Speak, Ser Garin." Elder Symon pressed on. "What do you know of this conspiracy?"

"I did not know of it until fairly recently." The boy confessed. "It was only a few moons ago that Ser Andrey here told me of the plan to get rid of prince Quentyn."

"Traitor…" Ser Andrey whispered under his breath, but loud enough for Nymella to hear.

"Silence." Prince Doran ordered. "Please continue, Ser Garin."

"Ser Andrey told me that a conspiracy was slowly making its way through the kingdom and that most lords had agreed to get rid of prince Quentyn and restore princess Arianne as heir. He told me that since lord Uller was the leader, that getting prince Oberyn to reinstate the princess would be easy."

"Why did you agree to such a conspiracy, ser Garin?" the Septon asked.

"Ser Andrey told me of their plan to remove Quentyn using an assassin. They wanted the Faceless Men, but they were too expensive, and that they had been in contact with the Sorrowful men in Tyrosh. That they would never be able to link us to them, and he asked me for my support."

"What did you answer?" Ser Myles asked.

This was tricky territory.

"I answered that I would join because of my past friendship with princess Arianne, and I did not wish to see her get her inheritance stripped away." He admitted.

Nymella turned her head to see the princess, completely stoic as the revelations kept coming.

In fact, Garin had not told the whole truth. He was supposed to approach Tyene Sand and ask for Arianne's blessing, but prince Oberyn had forbidden any investigation on that front, claiming that his daughter had no knowledge of this plot. No doubt that erasing Tyene's involvement with this plot was a factor in Garin keeping his head.

"And did you know of any other participants in this plot?" Ser Myles continued.

"Yes." Garin nodded. "Lord Gargalen and Ser Gerold here, as well as the deceased Ser Nymor. I was supposed to ferry the gold from Godsgrace down the Greenblood towards Lemonwood, and then into one of the islands on the Greenblood's mouth where the Sorrows would collect the payment. Once two thirds of the sum was paid, a ship was sent to pick up the assassin, whom I ferried to Lemonwood, while the ship sailed from Salt Shore to Tyrosh with the last part of the payment."

Gasps could be heard in the audience.

"For this testimony, my prince." Elder Symon rose once more. "Ser Garin asks for clemency in your sentencing."

"Granted." Prince Doran acknowledged. "Ser Garin will be given the option to take the Black."

"Thank you, my prince." Elder Symon nodded as he sat back down.

"Alright, you're all useless." A voice cried out amongst the accused.

"Yes, congratulations, you caught us." Gerold Dayne stepped forward. "But it seems to me that the judges do not have fairness in mind here. The traitor's father, a lackey of the faith, an old man who knows nothing of Rhoynish law, a savage from the mountains and a traitorous whore. It is obvious that we will find no justice here. We demand trial by combat, by blood of one."

Nymella shook her head. This was to be expected.

Trial by blood of one meant that one champion could represent all of the accused, provided he be part of the accused party, and be a part of the nobility. The duel would be to the first blood, although it rarely ended that way.

"Granted." Prince Doran acknowledged. "Who will represent you all?"

"I will." Gerold Dayne smirked.

"Very well, prince Oberyn would you…"

"No."

A gasp went through the crowd as prince Quentyn stood up.

"I will not have my uncle fight my battles for me. These men are traitors to Dorne, and shall die like traitors. They have been craven and sent an assassin after me, but I am no craven. I shall represent the accusation, and I will face their champion, despite them not having the decency to face me themselves."

The audience went silent as a few gasps were heard amongst the arches.

She could see prince Doran panic slightly, searching for a reaction from prince Oberyn, but found none. Soon enough, he would be forced to agree.

With a sigh, prince Doran relented.

"Very well, the trial by combat shall take place tomorrow at midday." Prince Doran acknowledged. "The court is adjourned."

As the accused were let go, and the crowd slowly dispersed, she could see the anger in prince Doran's eyes as prince Quentyn joined them.

"Have you gone mad, Quentyn?" the prince asked. "You should have let your uncle represent himself."

"It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't send the right message." He shook his head. "They tried to take my life. It is only fair that I take theirs."

"I admire your bravado, prince Quentyn." Nymella cut in. "But is it wise to face Ser Gerold? He is a talented swordsman after all."

"I wouldn't have made that choice if I wasn't completely and utterly sure of my victory tomorrow." The prince cut in with a smile. "I have no intention of making this a fair fight."

Doran and Nymella shared a look.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, father, you did tell me that it was better to rig a game to be sure to win."