The Princess was trying not to let the boredom she had begun to feel at the beginning of the conversation show too much.
Though, truth be told, she was no different, and like everyone else, she had been asking herself the same question: a disturbing, confusing and bewildering one.
What is happening in the Seven Kingdoms, on the other side of the Red Mountains?
Just five moons ago, the unexpected happened: Robert Baratheon was dead.
The King was dead and now on the Iron Throne sat a boy, barely of two and ten days of his name.
But it was not so simple, for after that first commotion, even more disturbing news continued to come:
The Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark had attempted to usurp the boy-king. He pretended to declare himself the new ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, but fortunately, his evil plot had been discovered and he was cast into the black cells beneath the Red Keep, to rot there.
Young Lord Renly had managed to flee King's Landing, escaping of becoming yet another victim of the evil northern conspiracy. He arrived safely at Storm's End, protected by the Mother's mercy, blessed was her heart.
They later learned that Stark had repented, confessed all his crimes in front of the Seven faces of God and joined the Night's Watch, where he would cleanse his disgusting sins, but even with that, the Lannisters cut off his head anyways.
And now Renly was king.
Then Stark's son was also a kinglet.
And meanwhile Stannis... well, he was still brooding on his sinister island, where he had been hiding for a year now, still angry the king had not offered him the position left vacant by the death of the elder Lord Jon Arryn.
Viserys Targaryen, known as the Beggar King, had apparently also died. Though that did not affect Dorne at all, in Arianne's opinion.
And it was all garnished with the white raven that came from the Citadel to herald the end of the longest summer in living memory, and the beginning of autumn.
Oh, and the comet, how could she forget that scarlet spear flying overhead, whose portent was still unclear?
"How old was he?", it suddenly occurred to Princess Arianne to ask.
"How old was who?".
The hardened Sir Walton Ladybright, looked very surprised at the sudden turn of the conversation. He looked to Vasalbar, as if seeking clarification, but the elderly septon seemed as confused as he was.
"Robert, —she clarified—. Robert Baratheon. How old was he when he died?".
Young Maester Myles stroked his well-manicured beard, ready to satisfy the Princess's curiosity, but before he could speak, someone beat him to it.
"Five and thirty, —replied Ricasso, the blind Seneschal of Sunspear, without needing to think long and hard about the answer—. In a couple of moons it would have been his name-day, but he didn't make it. He died at five and thirty, the same as the treacherous northerner he thought a friend, Lord Stark".
He spoke with a hint of sadness in his voice, though that tone was all too common for him.
"Oh, —that surprised Arianne—, he was young. Younger than I thought".
For some reason she had always imagined the king of the Seven Kingdoms much older, close to her father's age; though she herself was only two-and-twenty, but sometimes felt as old as he was.
The four men returned to their conversation about the situation on the other side of the Red Mountains.
"I've heard that, too, and they say Stark's son has proclaimed himself king and is heading for King's Landing to take the throne from the filthy Lannisters".
They were saying the same things they and others had already spoken, watched, scrutinised, and seeing that she had nothing more to add, she concealed her irritation at the whole thing as best she could and stood up.
"Morra, Mellei, —she addressed the maids standing at the table—, please collect the finished dishes and make sure they have everything they may need".
She apologised to the four men on the pretext that she had to change her attire before her imminent departure.
—
It was not long before noon, the Princess thought as she made her final preparations for departure, so the merciless Dornish sun still had a few hours left before it became relentless.
Whether they were all there or not, that day the Prince would finally begin the Council of Dornish Lords that he had convened in the Water Gardens, as the only answer to the pressure to do something.
Something.
Prince Doran was never a man of action.
What his father was good at was waiting, or as he liked to call it, 'thinking'.
Think, think, wait, wait, think and wait because he needed to think about it first.
Or, in short, to do nothing.
Arianne was fed up, Prince Oberyn had been waiting for fifteen, fifteen long years and he'd had enough. Her beloved cousins, the Sand Snakes, had had enough of waiting, the Lords could no longer afford to wait, and the people... the people of Nymeria had made it clear that they were not going to wait any longer.
As soon as the news of the King's death came, interest in what was happening in King's Landing increased as never before since the triumph of Robert's Rebellion.
Taverns in the two passes, the Shadow City and the Planky Town were filled with people demanding news from travellers arriving from the kingdom's capital or from Oldtown.
To the markets and stalls and stands and booths, men and women alike, old and young were more driven by their need to listen and whisper than to buy anything.
"It would have to be now, —they began to murmur after years of pretending—. Now is the time. Just look at the comet, —they would have pointed to the sky—, red, red, like Elia's blood".
"No, I don't think so, —others replied—, Tywin Lannister is still alive. He has always been the problem, not Robert".
"Then he too must die. Let us join Renly. Let us do so, and together we will crush those filthy Lannisters".
Arianne knew.
"How much longer must we wait?" —The murmurs continued, though they became less and less concealed.
Then they get bolder.
"Justice!" —they began to make themselves heard, and it was harder and harder to ignore their cries.
"To the spears!".
"Elia's blood must be avenged!".
Arianne had many friends, and she learnt about all of this.
"The red comet is announcing it. The time has finally come".
"To the spears, Doran!".
Ever since, fourteen years ago, Lord Jon Arryn came to Dorne with a group of Silent Sisters to return Prince Lewyn's remains to them, along with many promises, all talk of rebellion ended.
Though only on the surface... for deep down, what Dorne's heart most desired remained latent.
Justice for Elia and her children, vengeance against their murderers!
She was putting on her clothes with Belandra's help.
The purple tunic that had belonged to her mother seemed a fitting outfit, accompanied by a simple collar of semi-precious stones and several gold bracelets on her wrists.
The cascade of black ringlets she wore loose, and they were to remain so.
By now it was impossible even for her father to pretend he did not hear the cries of pain from their broken souls, and so he had summoned his bannermen, who came slowly but surely.
The last of whom were Lady Larra Blackmont, with her heiress Jynessa and the rest of her party, and also Lord Dagos Manwoody with his heir Mors, a young squire of five and ten, and the rest of his men.
But they were not all there yet, and still his father decreed that...
"What is going on over there?" —she asked, putting aside what she was doing.
"I don't know, the noise seems to be coming from the entrance".
Belandra was right.
"I hear... horses?" —from the window Arianne could not see anything—. I'm going to go down and have a look."
—
As she approached the castle entrance, she realised that she was not the only one whose attention was drawn by the hubbub, for from where she stood it seemed that a group had gathered outside, as curious to know what was going on there as she was.
"You are three days late, Sir," she heard Walton Ladybright shout just as she reached the castle courtyard.
"May the Seven Blessings fall upon you all, good people," he replied, speaking to them all.
Though from the way he was looking at her, it seemed that the Princess, who was already coming down the stairs to catch up with them, was the only person who existed at that moment for the newly arrived knight.
"May the Stranger shove every single one of those blessings up your arse, Dayne, —Sir Walton was not one for pleasantries, though fortunately there was no septon in sight—. Who the hell do you think you are to keep the Prince of Dorne waiting? To keep all the lords waiting?".
He shot an angry glance at Dayne's two companions as well.
"Prince Doran will forgive me when I explain to him the reason for my tardiness" —the younger man excused himself, unbothered.
"I doubt very much that he will, Sir Gerold, —Ricasso's blind eyes stared into nothingness, and he spoke in a very calm and melancholic tone—. You should have left Starfall at the same time as the other five stone lords. Nothing justifies your arriving much later than Lady Larra, whose castle is further away".
"Nothing? Are you sure about that, old man? —he smiled slyly as he stepped gracefully down from his precious sand steed—. Because I think when Doran knows the Bold Reed is no longer a problem, he will understand, —he said and tossed a bloodstained sack at Sir Walton's feet—. Lady Allyrion might even thank me for it, too".
An exclamation of astonishment went round the castle's entrance.
"Did you really... kill the Bold Reed?" —The young Maester Myles approached the sack, very impressed, to take a look at what was inside, followed by some onlookers who also wanted to see the macabre trophy.
"Darkstar. If you really think that I... —Ladybright refused to budge—. Never mind. Get back on those horses, because we are heading for the Water Gardens right now. You are damn late, Dayne!".
"Right now? —he replied with an exaggerated pout that nearly stole a sigh from Arianne—. But my lord, my men and I have travelled a long way and we are a little hungry, so I thought...".
"I'm a man of nearly fifty now, I am not going to tolerate your childish games, I said that...".
"Sir Walton, —Arianne Nymeros Martell finally spoke. The crowd turned, and began to move aside to let her pass—. It is true they have been slow in coming, so what is a little more time? —she put a hand on his arm—. Have pity, if only for the horses. Let them freshen up a bit and get something to eat before we go".
He looked at her in surprise, but could only give in to the heiress of Dorne's request.
"Two hours, —he scowled at the three men—. You have two hours, and not a second more".
"Thank you very much, Sir, —Arianne told him—. You are a most compassionate knight".
"Princess", —he bowed before going to get himself ready.
"Young Maester Myles, please send a rider to Maester Caleotte at once. Tell him we are on our way".
"So it will be done, Princess".
As the maester withdrew with the bloody bag, she turned to the others.
"The rest of you, you may return to your duties, the show is over. Benny, see to their horses". —As they dispersed, she turned to him.
Sir Gerold Dayne.
Though all Dorne knew him as Darkstar, the handsome knight of High Hermitage.
Arianne tried to be straight and unruffled, though the man had always had a bewitching effect on her that made her feel like a silly little girl.
"Princess, —Gerold greeted with a half-smile as he placed one knee on the ground in front of her. The other two mimicked him—. I see my memory serves me well, and you are still as beautiful as ever".
He had not changed a bit either, since she'd last seen him at Prince Oberyn's fortieth name-day feast.
"Come on, —she gestured as if to play it down—. I will have them draw you a bath and something to eat. We have not much time".
The three followed her into the castle.
Inside, Belandra explained that it would take time to bring enough water for the three of them in the bathing room.
"Well, let them prepare for just two while Sir Gareth and Sir Borys get something to eat. Sir Gerold can use the bathroom in my rooms instead, water will not be a problem there and he can eat later. That way we will save time".
It was hard, but she tried not to look at Gerold or blush as she finished her sentence.
Belandra took Darkstar, and the other two went to the kitchens with Morra.
—
"Is the food all right?" —she went in, sometime later, to make sure everything was alright.
It was not much, the cooks had improvised something from the food that was already made. Some boiled eggs, a heavy spicy fish and seafood stew, and black bread.
"Yes, Your Highness", —the two knights replied, surprised to see her fussing over them.
When they tried to get up, she waved to them to continue eating calmly.
"That is good to know. The bath will be ready in a little while and we can go".
After checking that the oven was already roasting the spicy ribs for Dayne, she went up to her rooms to check on him.
—
"Is the water good, Sir? Fresh enough? Is there anything else you need?".
"The water is good, my lady, though not as good or warm as you —he replied with that deep voice of him—. Need...? Nothing in particular, only that there is enough room in this tub for someone else".
"Why, Sir? That did not sound very gallant of you. Are you implying that I smell? —Arianne reached into the tub and playfully splashed some water in his face—. Or do you want me to find you some wench? I doubt you are going to be short of candidates".
She gathered water in her palm again to splash it on his face, noticing that there was still black shadow around his eyes.
But he was quicker to grab her hand and breathed in deeply at the soft skin of her forearm.
"You smell marvelously well as always, Your Highness, and no, I am not interested in any of these other wenches, —he opened her hand and kissed her palm—. If my Princess is not willing to share a bath with me, then I would at least need her to do something else instead, —he said—. I cannot manage to scrub my back on my own".
He offered her the damp-cloth.
"Mmm, I could do that," —she said, laughing at his cheekiness.
She stood up after a few seconds' thought and stood behind him.
"Perfect," —he sighed as she ran the cloth firmly over his muscular back.
It was a little strange, doing something that would be expected of a wife or a servant-maiden, but he was the Darkstar, after all.
Many a girl in Dorne, highborn or not, would die or kill to be in her place right now.
"And tell me, Sir, will we get anything out of this? From the Council, I mean, do you think my father will finally do something?".
She still found that hard to believe. Though he surprised her all the same by summoning all his bannermen.
"Not the way you want it".
"And how do I want it?" —she asked as she began to massage his scalp.
Ever since she'd met him, when she was barely seven and ten, for some strange reason he could read what was hidden deep in her heart, as if it was an open book.
Not always, though, and not everything.
"Bloody, —he replied without hesitation as he threw his head back, his eyes closed—. Same as the Red Viper or the Sand Snakes. The same as all of Dorne. Lion's blood..."
"And what about you?".
"I am Dorne, my lady".
No, Sir. Dorne is me.
"My father will do nothing".
"Then why has he summoned us?".
"To make it look like he is doing something so people will calm down, —she answered his question—. But he won't really do anything. Or else we'd already be leaving the Boneway to join Renly".
"Renly, —he glanced sideways at her—. Who knew that gangly little boy would become King of the Seven Kingdoms, eh? Though I do not think we should owe the defeat of the Lannisters to a Baratheon".
Of course, he would also remember when the youngest of the King's brothers visited Dorne, nearly five years ago now.
At first, his visit created such unrest that Hotah had to bring order and even two or three heads rolled, but once the young lord made himself known, he won the hearts of all Dorne, commonfolk and highborn, men and women alike.
It had been a masterstroke, and behind it was surely Lord Jon Arryn, that wily decrepit bird.
"Though my father worries he will be crowned above Joffrey".
"If what Stannis's letter says is true, that boy is the worst kind of bastards".
Very convenient that he did not reveal it while Robert was alive. —it seemed to Arianne—. Very convenient.
"I do not think my father believes that story. He will not take Dorne to war over it. You know well how cautious he is".
"I do not understand what he is trying to make us believe we should be afraid of. We have faced dragons and won. We defeated the Targaryens again when they dared to stick their hands in the serpent's nest once more. But now we are to fear paying the filthy Lannisters back? Why?"
Those words saddened her deeply.
Arianne would like the answer to those questions too.
"You are more than clean, Sir Gerold. And your food must be ready by now".
She stood and handed him her elaborate myrish cloth to cover himself and dry off. But to her surprise, the knight stood up without any hint of embarrassment.
The Princess looked away, flushed and heated, even though it was not the first time she had seen the man naked.
Though she was always amazed at how comfortable he was with his own nakedness.
"Shall I call someone to help you dress, Sir?", she teased him.
"No need, my lady, —he replied in an equally amused tone—. As of late, I have learned how to dress by myself".
"Good. I am very glad to hear that".
—
Sir Walton Ladybright had not been joking around when he said he would wait for no one.
Within two hours and not a second more, they had left the Shadow City for the Water Gardens, which were six leagues apart, leaving the couple behind. But Arianne and Darkstar arrived barely twenty minutes behind them.
The surroundings of the pleasure palace were full of people and tents, for with the highborn also came their pages, squires, knights, footmen and maidens; and some even brought some of their children and various servants and other animals.
And not all of them could fit into the palace, so the little village next to the building, normally very quiet and nondescript, was surrounded by tents of a thousand colours and full of life.
For wherever the lords went in a group, they were always followed by a group of merchants, vendors, craftsmen and other people of even less noble intentions.
From the inner courtyard, the shouting and splashing of children could already be heard, and that sound always brought a smile to the Princess's face, recalling the good times she herself had spent in that place with good friends... and a certain person she would fortunately never have to see again.
Gerold had entered the great hall first and Prince Doran was half-heartedly congratulating him on his work in finishing off one of the most notorious bandits of recent times.
For two years, the Bold Reed had been raiding the caravans coming from the red dunes towards the Vaith River, one of the key trade routes for Dorne's economy.
When Sir Symon Santagar saw her enter, he wanted to get up to make way for her, but Arianne motioned for him not to; she had decided to sit at the back, in a comfortable but discreet spot where she could watch without being seen.
Though it could not be considered a place of honour, it offered a privileged view of the entire room.
She took a quick glance.
They were all there, the lords, ladies, landed knights and some of their heirs and heiresses.
True to Dornish style, instead of high tables and chairs, the room was filled with comfortable pillows, and big and smaller cushions; they allowed for more comfortable and relaxed postures, more like a family gathering than a political meeting, but without the possibility of resting one's head to prevent anyone from falling asleep.
It was, after all, where the future of Dorne was being decided.
She saw her uncle Oberyn seated beside his paramour Ellaria, and to Prince Doran's right, the place of highest honour, leaving the left for Lord Anders Yronwood, the Bloodroyal, the most powerful of his father's vassals.
To his left sat Quentyn, her younger brother, and next to him sir Cletus, the heir of Yronwood.
And behind them all, standing, was Areo Hotah and his inseparable longaxe, his ash-and-iron deadly wife.
There were no other servants, for much of what was being discussed there was to remain the strictest of secrets.
And her father just loved secrets.
The one she did not see was Septon Vasalbar, who should have arrived with Sir Walton's party.
So strange —she thought—. Has he decided to stay in Sunspear?.
But she immediately dismissed that possibility, for nothing in the world would the old septon risk the possibility that anything but the utter destruction of House Lannister, or at least Tywin, would be decided.
Surely he was in the privy. Old men had very small bladders after all, everyone knew that.
"So, my lords, —said Delonne, Lady of Godsgrace and grandmother of Daemon Sand, who turned attentively to her words—, do you think it would be wiser to wait a little longer? Right now the situation in the Seven Kingdoms remains unclear".
"Wait for what, my lady? —snorted Obara, the eldest of the Sand Snakes, soberly dressed in brown and without a single jewel to adorn her attire—. The time is now. We're already taking too much time to jump over the marches, and from there onwards to King's Landing".
The Wyls, ever warlike, gave an enthusiastic nod of approval, supported by several of the younger knights.
They were all eager to spill blood.
"Over the marches you say. And why? —Larra Blackmont was alarmed—. Why would we do such a thing?".
"We must do it for our reviled Princess. For Elia and her children" —Sir Walton Ladybright said quietly.
"To provoke them. They are sure to take the bait", —Sir Arron Qorgyle too answered her question.
"Larra is right, though —the Red Viper supported her—. Renly is king now too, —from the look on his face, he seemed to find the idea most amusing—. We still have time to respond to his request for an alliance. I can write Willas to Highgarden".
A roar of approval went through the large hall.
Their Prince had spoken.
And most began to bang on the small tables, but Prince Doran raised his hand slightly, and Hotah silenced them all with three blows of his longaxe against the floor.
"The Hightowers are backing Renly", —Obara complained to her father.
"The best thing to do is lure them here, to Dorne, —Lord Franklyn Fowler, the sixty-eight-year-old lord they all knew as the Old Hawk, pointed out—. Once they cross the Prince's Pass, I myself will prevent them from turning back".
"You are so right, my lord. How considerate of you! —Tyene, third of the Sand Snakes, raised her head from the embroidery she was working on. She was very beautiful, dressed in a simple pale cream robe, her hair was tied back in a braid that ran around her head like a crown made of golden sunbeams, and around her neck was a pendant with a silver seven-pointed figure hanging from it, and of course, on her fingers, her two inseparable rings—. With the autumn, they must be cold out there by now. Let them come to Dorne, yes. We will let them enjoy the kindly qualities of a warmy sun, our greatest ally. Though... Oh, no, no! No! I fear it would be the last thing they would do in their..." —she clamped a hand over her mouth, wincing at the very thought.
But Arianne knew her Tyene well, the cousin who was more than a sister.
So she knew that the sight of all those men slowly simmering in the heat of the red dunes would be the last thing that would cause her grief.
Quite the opposite.
"Lure them to Dorne, you say? —Prince Doran asked. He spoke in a quiet voice, but he was perfectly audible because everyone went silent—. When you all came here, I imagine you heard the children playing in the pools. Many of them are your own children, grandchildren or younger siblings. You say you want blood to avenge my sister's, but Lady Nymella or Lady Larra, you who knew Elia well. Do you think she would approve of Dornish children dying to avenge the murder of her own?".
"Never!" —the Lady of Ghost Hill answered with confident assurance, but she could not help but cast an apologetic glance at Prince Oberyn.
Lady Larra did not reply, but her silence made it clear to everyone that she agreed with her peer's answer, though she also silently apologised to her uncle.
Arianne rolled her eyes in disgust.
"I will no longer watch Tywin and that monstrosity of his continue to walk around without consequence. It is not only an insult to my sister's memory, but to the dignity of all Dorne," her uncle was not about to give up so easily.
Finally, Sarella Sand, the fourth Sand Snake, deigned to take her nose out of the book she was reading.
She wore her voluminous hair loose and a yellow dress with so many slits, her very tanned back in full view, that even Arianne thought it inappropriate for the moment, though at least she was not wearing any jewellery.
She had been so engrossed in her reading that Arianne had not even realised she was there until that moment, and was even more surprised to find that she had been listening to everything despite having had her nose stuck in her book the whole time.
So typical of her.
"Uncle Doran, barring an unlikely miracle that saves the Lannisters, Renly will take the throne within the next few moons, and the Seven will grant no miracle to that House of monsters. With him go the combined forces of not only Storm's End, but also Highgarden and the Hightower. An army of over a hundred thousand men. Tywin is alone, and trapped in the Riverlands. Not only would no child in Dorne be harmed if we give Renly our support, but whether we help him or not, it is practically a given that he will sit on the Iron Throne. As far as we know, in the Vale of Arryn, they are still undecided about him, despite the fact that Cersei murdered Jon Arryn. And for some time now, nothing has been known of what is happening in the Iron Islands. If we are the first to recognise Renly, we can demand our terms from him. He will not be able to refuse".
"You too, my dear niece, —her father sighed as if Sarella's exposure did not entirely surprise him. He had been reluctant to let her leave Dorne, but now he seemed to be wishing she were already on a ship bound for the Summer Islands, her mother's lands, which she had so longed to visit of late. Arianne was amused—. You are the last person I would believe who does not have a basic understanding of how succession laws work. If Renly is the rightful king, where do you leave Joffrey? He is Robert's firstborn".
"Robert, —Sarella spoke in a cheerful voice, undaunted by her uncle's words—. How did Robert get his throne? By conquest. King Renly will perform the same feat as his older brother. And what better year than this to dethrone the Lannisters. The year of the Millennium".
That year was the thousandth anniversary of the arrival of Nymeria of Ny Sar and her ten thousand ships.
"It seems you did not receive Lord Stannis's letter, my Prince". —said a baffled Lord Quentyn Qorgyle; he looked really surprised.
"I did, —he waved his hand to play it down—, and it was clear to me that he has no proof other than his word. Besides, if we were to give credence to his accusations...".
The door suddenly opened and one of the soldiers guarding the palace entered.
"Excuse me, Your Highness… my lords, but he has just arrived and...".
"It is all right, let him pass".
—
The Prince of Dorne already looked tired.
Septon Vasalbar tiptoed in, as he always did when he was indignant.
"As I was saying, —the Prince continued—, if we accept these accusations, Stannis himself would be king and not Renly".
"Stannis n-no, —he had just arrived, but he came ready to make himself heard—. W-we have... —Septon Vasalbar raised a trembling but determined bony finger—, we have received reports, very disturbing reports from… from Septon Barre... on Dragonstone. —His inquisitive eyes searched the room and he raised a furious but pathetic fist at Sir Walton—. You left me... you left me... I won't... I'm not going to...".
Vasalbar had had enough and looked around for support, Sir Myles Manwoody, who was next to him, rose quickly to help the holy man.
Despite being well into his seventies, the old septon refused to use a cane, although it was obvious to all but him that he needed one.
"I'm still strong, I can still do it", —he used to say, with the same expression on his face as a child learning to take his first shaky steps.
"What kind of reports, holy father?" —Myria Jordayne, the heiress of Tor, wanted to know.
Lord Anders rose to give him his place beside Doran.
"Nothing very clear yet, but... it seems... he wor…ships dark demons. —Prince Oberyn rolled his eyes in disbelief. It was no secret to anyone that the old septon and he clashed on all but one thing—... shadow-tamers. And he has... abandoned the Seven... apostasy".
"Well, that is it, there you have it, brother. Apostasy. Stannis cannot be king. The rightful one is Renly. —Oberyn agreed anyways while laughing.
"Joffrey is not Robert's son, and Stannis has disowned the Seven gods. How convenient!" —Doran still would not budge.
"But it is the truth, my Prince." —Valena, the heiress of Ghost Hill, dared to say.
Sarella smiled at her uncle.
"Convenient or not, I remind you, uncle, that according to the agreement King Jaehaerys I made to uphold the ban on the Faith Militant, whoever sits on the Iron Throne must be a defender of the Faith of the Seven. And unless you want to see Swords and Stars running wild as in the days of old, the Seven Kingdoms, just like Dorne, needs a ruler who believes in our very gods. And Stannis is not that man".
Her uncle Oberyn smiled, proud.
As much as he denied it, it was obvious to anyone who paid a little attention that Sarella was the favourite of all his daughters.
It was surprising he had agreed to let her go.
"It was Septon Gerardone himself who… anointed the King, and he is of... my complete trust. It was also Gerardone who married him to the... young Lady Margaery… Tyrell, the best… the best consort one… could wish. And they… say he is creating his... own Kings…guard. —Vasalbar found it difficult to speak most of the time, although he rarely kept quiet—. And, they… will not wear… white like… Aegon and Robert's Kingsguard, instead... they will wear the seven... the colours of the Faith. King Renly… has all… the symbols of... of legitimacy".
"The king? —mocked Lord Anders Yronwood—. All the symbols of legitimacy? This Gerardone is not the High Septon".
"That High Septon is a Lannister bootlicker anyways, uncle. —Daemon Sand explained—, and when he is not...".
—
This time there were firm knocks on the double doors before they opened and a guard let Maester Caleotte through.
"My Lord Prince, my lords… —the squishy little man greeted them—, I am so sorry to interrupt, but young Maester Myles has sent a rider with this message. It seems important".
"Where did it come from?"
"I do not know whether... whether you... whether I should...".
"I am among my most loyal lords, to whom I have no secrets. You may speak".
"Well, it comes from… from King's Landing... my Lord Prince. And it bears the seal of... the Hand of the King".
A murmur of surprise rippled through the bright hall.
Doran Nymeros Martell raised a sceptical eyebrow, while his brother Oberyn frowned in annoyance.
Arianne wondered what these people wanted now.
"Give it to me".
He read it silently, and silently they all waited to learn the contents of the message.
"It is signed by Tyrion Lannister".
"And what does that twisted man want from us, my Prince?" —Nymella Toland could not resist asking.
"He offers a seat on the Small Council, some castles in the marches, and... 'justice' for Elia and her children, —he said grimly—. They are asking for an alliance, to be sealed by marriage between my son, Prince Trystane, and their Myrcella… Baratheon".
This time what swept through the hall was a wave of deep indignation.
Even her brother Quentyn looked shocked.
"NO! —the Red Viper roared, rising to his feet—. Over my dead body. Do not think I am going to let you...".
"You are not going to let the Prince of Dorne what?" —The Bloodroyal also stood, ready to face Oberyn.
"Please, sit back down, both of you", —Ellaria Sand tried to calm them both down, though to Arianne's delight, without much success.
The two men looked into each other's eyes with such fierceness that it seemed that they would destroy each other right there.
It was not until Sir Ryon Allyrion and Lord Tremond Gargalen intervened that they decided to listen to Ellaria's pleas.
"My lord… Prince, —Septon Vasalbar was weeping with pure indignation—, you can… cannot… accept. Do we no longer… remember who Tywin… Lannister is? That man… has no soul. What they do... what the Lannisters do, you can't… forgive them, they kill... not only... they kill women as well. And the children... may the Seven… protect us! They don't spare even the most innocent ones. Have we… forgotten? But the… Father... he will judge... he will judge us all equally. —The old man was not well, Tyene went at once to help him to his feet, and they went to Maester Caleotte—. Because like this... like this there is… no Justice. There is no justice... Justice either belongs to everyone… equally or it belongs to no one... to no one. And here… there isn't... there isn't… any… Justice at all".
Arianne knew that the septon and the Red Viper were like oil and water in the way they saw the world, but it was also common knowledge that the one thing they had in common was their visceral hatred for Tywin Lannister and his kin.
"Listen to me, Doran —Lord Qorgyle asked him—. You cannot accept".
"Those are lies, cousin, —Sir Manfrey Martell opined—. Nothing but Lannister lies".
"May the Seven protect us all". —Alyse Ladybright approached Arianne's father for protection, which made the Princess's heart begin to gallop with rage.
"Catelyn Tully should have slit that demon's throat". —Sarella had stopped smiling.
"That woman kidnaps Tywin's imp, and the Lannisters respond by burning the Tully's lands. —Darkstar's tone began to show impatience—. But Tywin murdered two of our princesses and the future king of the Seven Kingdoms, and our response has been to sit back... to 'wait' for... fifteen years. And now you want to marry them?".
"Well said, boy, —Lord Franklyn congratulated him—. Doran, the Darkstar has spoken for many".
"They must all be killed, plain and simple. —Up to this point the beautiful and elegant Lady Nym, the second of the Sand Snakes, whose pointed and golden earrings glowed furiously, had preferred only to listen, but the contents of that letter outraged her as much as anyone else's, and she decided to make herself heard—. First, the brute Gregor, then the whore named Cersei, then the Kingslayer, that petty traitor. Next we will move on to Sir Kevan, that mindless bootlicker, followed by the evil imp, and then the rest. Let them live in fear, uncle, wondering every day who will be next. We have to make it so that Tywin has no proof, but also no doubt, that it was us. He must be paid in his own coins".
"That's it!" —chorused several voices, including Darkstar's and also Daemon's.
"And then we move on to the children? —Prince Doran asked. His patience seemed to be wearing thin too, he looked tired—. Even this Myrcella? She is but a child".
"That... 'child' is the daughter of a Lannister whore and her perjured brother." —Oberyn tried to speak as calmly as he could, but they all could sense the pent-up rage in his voice and his boiling blood.
"An abomination in the eyes of all the gods, if that accusation is true". —said Sir Frigdan of Vaith, uncle and regent to the young Lord of Vaith, who was only six.
"It is true," —Daemon Sand assured him.
Low, high-pitched, mocking, tearful, and indignant voices.
All of them began to speak at once, few noticed the return of Tyene, who had the confused expression of a little girl who had lost her way in the crowded market day of the Shadow City.
"My lords, —Delonne, Lady of Godsgrace, raised her voice, which was rare for her, but Hotah had to intervene to silence them all—. Do you see yourself? Do you hear what you are saying? Do you want us to be like our enemies? Look at them: It was Jon Arryn who arranged the marriage of Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon, and she kills him to hide the fact that what he believed to be his legitimate children are nothing but bastards. As soon as the King dies, his friend Stark is quick to try to steal his throne, after his own wife kidnapped the Queen's brother; and if it is true that Cersei's children are abominations fathered with her own brother, who swore allegiance to Robert, then why did not Stannis denounce her to his King? No, he preferred to wait for her to do the dirty job for him, so he could take his brother's throne. And the Renly king that many of you consider so legitimate? He did not even wait for his brother's corpse to cool before he ran off to plot his succession with his Tyrell friends, —someone wanted to speak to dispute the last statement, but she silenced him with a firm wave of her hand—. My lords, my ladies, we are the People of Nymeria, her children. And I need not to remind you how weak we were before the Rhoynar came to this land, we were divided. Mianna dhissani! She taught us that the reason why we were weak was because we were divided, she taught us to love one another as what we are: brothers and sisters. And on top of the legacy she left us, she gave us a Prince and... it is getting late, and we are tired —she turned to Doran—. My Prince, what are the steps we must follow from now on?".
Silence fell.
Those present looked at each other, first confused, then embarrassed, but…
Gradually they too turned to their Prince.
"It shall be done as you say, Doran," —Lady Larra did not need to make it clear to anyone that she spoke on their behalf too.
Her father sighed, still holding the Imp's message in his hand, which he had previously folded.
"Oberyn, —he spoke at last after what seemed an eternal wait—, we do not know where Lord Renly is right now, but I want you to write to Willas Tyrell and Sir Baelor Hightower. Assure them that they can rest assured, —his uncle was delighted to hear that—, unless Dorne is attacked, we will not intervene for the moment under any circumstances. —He did not seem to like that one so much, but he did not say anything—. Lord Anders, Lord Franklyn, you will be in command of two forces that you will assemble, one at the Boneway and the other at the Prince's Pass, —he unfolded the message and looked at it for a few seconds before continuing—. You will head for the passes once... once Myrcella... Baratheon arrives at Sunspear, provided no cauldron of molten gold stands in the way, of course", —he sighed.
Wait…Myrcella? What? —and she was not the only one who wondered if she had heard correctly, judging by the look on everyone faces'.
"Have you hear yourself, my lord uncle? —asked Lady Nym after exchanging a quick glance with her father, Prince Oberyn—. The people of Dorne will not like this betrothal at all, and even less when they discover the contents of Lord Stannis's letter".
Cletus had moved to stand beside her, and Arianne watched as he gave Nymeria's hand a quick, discreet grasp, signaling her his support for her position.
"All the more reason for the people of Dorne never to learn the contents of that letter, —her father replied mockingly. He did not need to add that he had given them an order—. Hotah, be so kind to…".
—
Arianne Martell was not sure what was going in Westeros... except for one thing.
That King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name, was dead, and with him the summer too was over.
With all that it entailed.