The Woods surrounding Casterly Rock
Two girls ventured deeper into the dense forest, loud with sounds of nature; one blonde dressed in red and gold, the other brunette in vermillion and white. Neither had reached thirteen years, but each thought themselves women grown. A heavy fog rested over them as they neared a worn tent, speckled green and brown, with moss and twigs strewn over it. As the blonde reached out her arm to pull open the tent flaps, her brunette companion quickly interjected.
"If your father-"
"He'll never know we're even gone." Cersei cut her friend off dismissively. "I've heard the witch can summon demons and-"
"You don't need to be afraid of her."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course." Without a second thought, Cersei slipped into the tent, Melara Hetherspoon close behind her. The flap shut behind them, a crow screeched, and the girls held their breath. In the tent corner was a table, a woman, hair blacker than the seas at night, glanced at the intruders with a piercing intensity enough to shake mountains.
"Get out." Her voice was low and gravelly. Cersei stepped forward imposingly and cemented her presence in the tent. "Get out." The witch repeated. Tywin's daughter returned her gaze and refused to move an inch.
"They said that you were terrifying. Maggy the Frog, with the teeth of a cat and three eyes." Cersei sat down at the table, rolling her eyes. "You're not terrifying, you're quite boring." Maggy squinted at the blonde girl.
"You don't have any idea what I am." She bared her teeth, almost a snarl.
"I know you're a witch and that you can see the future. Tell me mine." It wasn't a request. She would not be deterred.
"Everyone wants to know their future, until they know their future." Maggy replied, uninterested in entertaining the young lady.
"This is my father's land. My land. You will tell me my future or I will have your two boring eyes gouged out of your head and hang your corpse from the gates of the Rock." Cersei did her best to imitate her father's authority. The witch only laughed softly in response. She sighed and obliged.
"Your blood, I need a taste." Maggy instantly pulled a dagger and sliced open Cersei's palm before sucking it directly from the open wound. Melara gasped but Cersei remained determined. "Three questions you get. You won't like the answers." Cersei grinned at her victory.
"I've been promised to the prince. When will we marry? "
"You will never wed the prince. You will wed the king." Cersei's brows turned, not quite understanding the difference.
"I will be queen, though?"
"Oh, yes. Queen you shall be." Maggy's eyes bore deeper and deeper. "For a time. Then will come another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear." Holding back her encroaching fear, Cersei pressed on.
"Will the king and I have children?"
"No. The king will have twenty and you shall have three." Cersei face contorted in utter confusion.
"That doesn't make any sense-"
"Gold shall be their crowns, and gold their shrouds. And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you." Cersei remained still, her face pale. Melara stepped forward to the table.
"I get three questions too." She offered her hand out to the witch and winced as the blade cut her skin. Maggy slurped her blood and sat back.
"And what do you wish to know?"
"Will I be wed to Jaime?" Melara gave the still silent Cersei a smirk.
"Not Jaime, or any other man." Maggy looked up at her smugly. "Worms will have your maidenhood. Your death is here tonight, child. Can you smell it? She is very close." Melara stepped back, afraid. Maggy burst into sudden, thunderous laughter. Her fear took her over all at once.
"Come on we have to go." She tugged at Cersei's arm. "Cersei, we have to go!" She nearly dragged her friend out of the tent and back into the woods. Leaving the tent shook Cersei awake and both moved as fast as they could until they could no longer see the tent or hear the witch's laughter. They ran until their chests were heavy with breath and their legs ached from exertion. With Casterly Rock in sight, Melara rested against a well. "It cannot be true. She must be lying." She was reassuring herself more than anything. Cersei was still silent, only returning Melara's gaze. "She can't know-"
"I think she spoke true." Cersei finally spoke, stepping closer to her friend. Melara was silent now. She seemed to reconsider and reached a new conclusion.
"If we don't speak to anyone about what she said, then maybe they won't come true." Cersei's green eyes sparkled with assurance at her friend's words. "It's getting dark, we should be back before anyone thinks to search for us." Cersei nodded in agreement and extended her hand to pull Melara up to her feet. She pulled her up and hugged her tight.
"No one can know what she said." With a sudden shove, Melara tumbled backwards into the well and fell all the way to the bottom, her screams silenced against the stones below. Cersei glared into its black depths. The water suddenly rose up at her and she woke screaming in her bed.
-Game of Thrones Intro Plays-
Dorne - Outside the Water Gardens
The boats hit the beach and the twenty-five men were already on the sand, rapidly securing their vessels and quietly making their way towards the palace under the cover of night. Captain Vylarr volunteered to lead this mission when the Queen had asked. He was nearing forty years and was skilled with his sword. Sweat beaded at his temples, the southern heat rising under his armor. A loud clang and he turned back to see one of his men tripped over a stone.
"Careful, we can't be caught." His anger was palpable through his curt whisper. The young man got back on his feet and nodded apologetically. Vylarr's red cloak swayed in the evening breeze as they clambered up past the reeds and the palace came into view. He turned to his men, "We get the princess and we leave. If anyone catches us, they don't see another sunrise." They marched on, doing their best to remain hidden in the shadows. Even at night, the heat was unwelcoming to their thick coats and heavy armors. Muttering curses under his breath Vylarr removed his helm and threw it in the sand. Another sixty paces and the gates lay wide open before them.
"They just leave their gates wide open?" One of the red cloaks asked, quite bemused. The Captain held up his hand to quiet him, hearing movement in the tall grass. He unsheathed his blade and the soldiers drew theirs. He snapped his head back to the open gate where a man now stood. Tall and massive, an enormous long-axe in his hands. Vylarr grimaced in determination and charged him, his blade catching on the shaft. Faster than a man his size should be, the dark-skinned man twirled his long-axe and sent Vylarr's sword flying into the dirt. A second later and Vylarr was raised into the air, the axe piercing his guts. His men, still recovering from the shock, all ran at the lumbering guard but they were too slow. Knives flew out from the tall grass, felling two men; a whip shot out and wrapped around the leg of the leading man, swiftly pulling him off his feet. A broad- shouldered woman snapped back her whip and drove a spear into the man's heart. She twirled it into the air and brought it down onto the sword of the next man, brushing him off and striking at the next.
The men at the rear weren't fairing any better. Two women, one with her black hair in a long braid and one with blonde hair brushing her shoulders, moved elegantly with their blades expertly slicing at the weak points in their heavy suits. The red cloaks desperately swung at their assailants to no avail. The dark haired woman leaped on top of men, driving her sword into their spines while the blonde ducked their swings and sliced their heels with daggers. Within two minutes, the three women stood over the corpses of twenty-four men.
A lone soldier stood shakily between them, his eyes wide with fear. He warily regarded them as they collected their blades, scattered throughout the field. He slowly backed away from the palace, towards the beach and the hoofbeats of a rapidly approaching steed. An arrow shot through the back of his skull and came out through his face. The soldier crumpled to the ground as the dark-skinned woman with close-cut black curls dismounted her horse and strung her bow over her shoulder. The tall man walked towards the four women, his eyes fixed on the bodies of the dead Lannisters.
"They're going to try again." He spoke plainly in his gruff voice. The broad-shouldered woman smirked as she cleaned her spear.
"And we'll be ready for them."
King's Landing, Red Keep - The Tower of the Hand
The kingsguards Balon Swann and Arys Oakheart trailed the Queen Regent into the Hand's office. Cersei's blonde hair done up in her courtly braids shone bright against the black of her mourning dress, dresses she couldn't quite seem to escape. As she reached the desk she noticed an ornate, orange and gold box, tied at its tip with a red ribbon. A gift of condolences she thought, odd that there was no note attached. She maneuvered around the desk and took her seat. Her fingers gracefully untied the ribbon and the walls of the box fell open as petals of a flower. Cersei nearly fell to floor, pushing herself as far away from the viper's fangs as she could. The snake had lunged at her, but a dagger pierced its head before it reached her.
"Your Grace." Ser Arys grabbed the lifeless viper, promptly removed it from the desk, and sheathed his dagger. The queen hands grasped her chair tight as she regained her composure. Her shock quickly changed to rage, seeing further the box's contents: a gold lion necklace, identical to her own.
"Bring me Ser Jaime." Cersei ordered. "Now."
-
Jaime Lannister walked determinately into the office of the Hand, he'd changed his black coat of mourning for one of a deep red, gold lion buckles held it closed tight across his chest. He glanced conspicuously at Qyburn who was showing a vial to his twin, explaining something that he couldn't quite hear. The old man bowed at the knight, and took his leave. Cersei grasped the necklace between her fingers and stared at her twin expectantly.
"That's the necklace I had made for you after Myrcella was born." He inquired, unsure what Cersei meant.
"No it isn't. I'm wearing mine." She pushed her chest forward, showing off the gold around her neck. "It's Myrcella's. It's the only one in the world like mine and they sent it in a box with a viper."
"Who sent it?" Jaime's curiosity grew.
"The Martells! She's been there two years if you recall!"
"But why would they threaten her? We've done nothing to provoke them, she was sent there to unite our houses."
"Perhaps they're angry about Prince Oberyn." Cersei deflected.
"He died in a trial by combat, a trial he volunteered for. They can't possibly blame us for that." Jaime noticed his twin's blank expression. He furrowed his brows. "What did you do?"
"Father's gone and we're exposed. They know we're vulnerable and they're going to take advantage. We have to get her back before we lose her."
"What did you do?" He asked again, louder this time. She held his stare for a moment.
"I sent Vylarr with a small force to bring her back to me."
"You sent soldiers to Dorne to abduct the princess we promised to them!" Jaime screamed at her. "Prince Doran would be within his rights to declare it an act of war. If this is their only response, we should be relieved."
"Relieved? Are you mad?" Cersei spat out. "They're telling us that she's theirs. Forever. We won't see her again unless you go and get her." She gave him a pleading look as her voice cracked. "She's your daughter too." She spoke softly then. He took his seat across from her and reached for her hand.
"I'll go." She held his hand tight and nodded. "How do you propose we should act?"
"I've asked Tommen to write to Prince Doran, given the death of his brother and grandfather, he wishes to keep his family close. You will go bring Myrcella and her intended, Prince Trystane, to King's Landing and he'll be offered his late uncle's position on the small council. Let them know Dorne is important to the stability of the kingdoms and we value their support." Jaime nodded, acknowledging the sense of the plan.
"But what about the men you sent to take her by force?"
"I'll have them disavowed. They acted on their own ambitions to try and curry favor with the new king, but acted without his blessing. It was a misunderstanding and we hope to move past this unfortunate incident." Jaime was skeptical, but didn't speak up.
"When do I leave?" He slid back his chair and stood.
"You leave today, Ser Arys and Ser Balon will accompany you along with a small host of our red cloaks. You'll treat with Prince Doran at the water gardens and if all goes to plan, you'll return in two fortnights." She handed him a vial. "The Dornish are known for their use of manticore venom, Qyburn says this should counter any ill-effects." He nodded and hugged his sister goodbye.
"I'll bring our daughter home."
Dorne - Sunspear
The crowds roared as the royal float made its way down the main road of the city. Cheer and anger both resounded through the people of Sunspear. Atop the float, Ellaria Sand stood over the table where Oberyn's wrapped body lay, her hands wrapped tightly around the spear beside him. She stifled her tears as she faced her home. Her dark navy dress, one of mourning, blew in the breeze, pinched around her chest by crossing leather-scale straps; in grief, she'd cut her hair short as well. They welcomed her back with celebration and cries for vengeance against the Lannisters. The Martell's house words echoed through the streets, quickly followed by "justice for Oberyn!" Her lover's squire, Daemon Sand, stood behind her, his left hand resting on her right shoulder in solidarity. His blue eyes, unusual for a Dornishman, were wet with tears at their sorrowful homecoming. The people threw flowers onto their float and still Ellaria kept her composure, offering them a kind smile. She knelt towards a young girl offering up a bright yellow flower, she accepted the gift and kissed her hand in thanks. Ellaria stood and placed it atop Oberyn's body.
After what seemed like an eternity, they'd reached the main palace. A small party waited outside to receive them. A tall young man, his dark wavy hair that nearly reached his shoulders in tips dyed a bright blue, stood at the center. His robe was a bright rose, its gold trims stood out against his deep olive skin. Trystane, a man of twenty-one years, was the epitome of a Martell, spare his eyes, their dark blue must have come from his mother, although Doran would never speak of her. To his right was his squire, Andrey Dalt, a short young man with brown skin and a close-shaved beard. He wore a purple robe with a gold trim, his house colors on full display. To his left was Obella, Ellaria's second daughter, only twelve years old. She ran forward, her face pained at reuniting with only one of her parents. Ellaria took her daughter's face in her hands and kissed her forehead.
"I've missed you and your sisters so much, child." She hugged her daughter close. "Are they here as well?"
"No, they're at the water gardens preparing for father's funeral." Her teary eyes looked to the body wrapped in orange cloth. "We have come to bring you there." Ellaria nodded and looked to the Prince. Daemon took Obella inside with Andrey, leaving the two free to talk.
"My young prince," she embraced him tightly and kissed his forehead. "How I've missed you as well." She spoke, her eyes full of tears.
"Aunt Ellaria, I don't know what-" He was struggling against his tears and she embraced him again. "Uncle, he's really gone."
"Yes, nephew, I know." They shared their tears, walking inside the palace. "How is your father?"
"He's getting worse by the day. Some days he doesn't leave his bed." She held his arm as they walked the brightly colored halls, "I don't think he means to return here, he wants his last days at the water gardens to be peaceful."
"He deserves his peace" Ellaria replied. They walked a few more paces, she noticed how quiet he'd become. "Let's start our journey, I don't want to delay Oberyn's funeral any longer."
"There is one more thing." He stopped suddenly and turned to her. "The kingslayer is coming to treat with father." Her gaze narrowed at his words. "The king wants his sister back and they want me to serve on the council in uncle's place."
"Your father has agreed to this?" She asked sharply.
"Yes. He told me I didn't have to accept the position, but I've come to enjoy Myrcella's company, despite my feelings towards her family." His face turned serious. "And once I'm there I'll be able to deliver-"
"No!" Ellaria snapped. "I will not have any more of my family dying in that city. I will talk with Doran when we get there. We will not bow to these lions so readily."
"What will you say to him? He's too tired to fight any more wars, and I-"
"War and subservience are not our only choices." Ellaria grabbed his arm and continued walking. "Let them come, then they will see we are not so easily appeased."
Dorne, The Water Gardens - Upper Terrace
The sun was low in the sky, cresting over the red mountains to the west. Prince Doran sat in his mobile chair, watching the sun's slow descent; Areo Hotah, his most loyal guard, stood tall behind him. His illness had reduced him to his chair entirely, his last walk at Sunspear ended with a raven bringing the news of his brother's death. His sudden tumble sent the palace into a frenzy of maesters and healers scrambling to his aid. The mobile chair they came up with was almost a throne, cushioned with many pillows, yet it was also like a cart, two larger wheels at the back and two smaller ones at his feet. His hair and beard had turned gray in spots as he reached nearly fifty years, and his hands were spotted with age. The prince wore a golden-orange robe and a gold chain around his neck with a sun hanging over his chest.
Areo had rarely left his side since his fall and lumbered over the prince day by day. When the red cloaks came for the princess, he'd gone to the prince immediately with the news. Doran had nearly dismissed the incident altogether, just grateful that it had been dealt with. He tried to speak up when the prince received the scroll from King's Landing regarding Ser Jaime's imminent arrival, but Doran had insisted on the importance of their alliance and pacifying the Lannisters. A gust of wind blew through the terrace, and Prince Doran looked over his shoulder to see his nieces. Obara, the tallest of the three and broad-shouldered, marched around his chair and cut off his view of the sunset.
"My father has not even been put to rest and you're already treating with his killers!" She threw the scroll in his lap, her brows furrowed. "Did you think we wouldn't notice a host of Lannisters at our tables and in our halls?" Doran was silent still. "Your brother was murdered, and you sit here in the gardens, staring at the sky doing nothing!"
"Oberyn was slain during a trial by combat. By law that is not murder. The 'invasion' you speak of was an unfortunate incident carried out by an overly ambitious captain " His voice was plain and to the point. It only angered the Sands further.
"What will you do about our father's death?" It was Nymeria who spoke up this time. Her black braids hung over her left shoulder atop her silver, sleeveless dress. Her arms were adorned with metal snake bracelets wrapping around her forearm.
"I will set him to rest, I will mourn for him." The prince spoke somberly now, yet it wouldn't appease his nieces.
"And then?" Lady Nym pressed on.
"You would have me go to war?" His tone turned sharper, accusatory even. Tyene and her blond curls hung over her uncle's head as she leaned over to whisper in his ear.
"The whole country would have you go to war." Her face was sweet but her voice was poison. "The people of Dorne are with us. Father had the love of his people and they would avenge him while you sit here in your chair doing nothing."
"Then we are lucky the whole country does not decide when we go to war. I've seen war and it is not vengeance and glory. You do not know what you are asking."
"We're not asking you to march on the capitol uncle," Elia, the youngest of the group and Ellaria's oldest. Her wavy black hair hung past her shoulders over her red, summer dress. "But any Lannister that enters our halls does not leave with their head." She was her uncle's favorite niece and she knew; the spitting image of her namesake, her aunt, and he'd had never refused her anything.
"And Myrcella? Is she not a Lannister?" Elia was quiet a moment too long.
"She is no lion. She has grown up along with our sisters and for that she will have a place here with us, even when the rest of the Lannisters are in their graves." Nymeria answered for the group. "How many more of your family do they have to kill?"
"Let us have Jaime, let us send the kingslayer back to Cersei, one finger at a time." Tyene went on. Her and Elia were at either side of their uncle's chair, looking up at him.
"I loved my brother but we do not mutilate guests in our home for vengeance." He was firm, his mind made up. "Not here, not while I rule." Without another word, the four women stormed off the terrace in their defeat. Doran looked to Hotah in desperation; he could feel his once tight grip on the kingdom and his family slipping.
Dorne, The Water Gardens - Sarella's Quarters
"You cannot do that, princess." Sarella Sand guided Myrcella Baratheon's hand to reposition her cyvasse piece. Her dark, gaunt fingers carefully putting the wood carved elephant to its original position.
"Can't I?" The princess was still lost to the rules of this game.
"Afraid not, an elephant cannot overtake a dragon." Willas Tyrell corrected her from behind, acting as a sort of game advisor. He'd come for funeral, having been a close friend of the late prince and a frequent guest at the gardens. The princess moved her last elephant piece to take one of Sarella's trebuchets.
"And I win." Sarella said, moving her dragon over Myrcella's elephant and knocked it over. "Don't be too disappointed, you're getting better at it." She smiled gracefully. "And maybe you'd learn better from someone who had the slightest clue about strategy." Sarella stood and playfully punched Willas in the arm. She wore a light yellow shirt with brown trousers pulled up over it and tied at the waist with leather-scale straps. Her hair was close-cut black curls, darker even than her ebony skin. Willas stood a head and shoulder above her, his chocolate curls pushing right past his brows. A man of twenty-two years, he was clean shaven and had the same golden-brown eyes of his cousins. His dark teal tunic was clasped down the front with golden roses, a matching belt of thorns wrapped around his waist.
"As if I wouldn't defeat you with my eyes shut." He laughed at her remark. He had a light air about him, his attitude unblemished by his injuries. Sarella took his arm and leaned him off the princess's chair and onto her. Myrcella quickly finished cleaning the cyvasse board and stood to join them.
"We shouldn't be late for dinner, they'll be joining us tonight." Her voice was full of anticipation.
"It hasn't even been a week, Cella." Sarella chided. "And Trys will be there waiting for you whether we arrive in ten seconds or ten fortnights." The princess rolled her eyes at her companions and outpaced them both, eager to reunite with her betrothed. "Of course, you go right on ahead." She sarcastically spat out. Myrcella turned her head and stuck out her tongue.
"She's really loosened up since the last time I saw her." The Tyrell made note. "I'm glad at least one of the Lannisters isn't a total shit."
"She's not the only one." Sarella replied. "Your tongue has become quite filthy since we met. You were a right proper lad back then."
"I guess hanging around a bunch of filthy bastards will have that effect on a right proper lad." Sarella punched his arm again and they both broke out in laughter, nearly falling over each other. The setting sun casted long shadows into the palace halls as they picked themselves up and went to join the rest of the household for supper.
The Crownlands - Castle Stokeworth
"Never thought I'd end up settling down in a place like this." Ser Bronn of the Blackwater was on a stroll of the grounds of his new home with his newly betrothed Lollys Stokeworth.
"You won't" Lollys replied, as if nothing was wrong.
"Pardon?"
"When mother dies, my sister gets the castle because she's older and she hates me." Lollys explained. Bronn was smiling thru his grimace, he'd been promised a castle and a highborn wife and Cersei had given him a simple dolt with no land to her name. "She calls me names, and sometimes, when mother's not looking, she still plucks my hair."
"You know what I think?" The wheels in Bronn's head were already spinning. "I think you're a good person and your sister is a mean one."
"She is." Lollys agreed dejectedly.
"I've been all over the world, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that meanness always comes around." Bronn would get the castle he was owed. "People like your sister, they always get what's coming to them eventually. One way or another." Lollys smiled at him and they continued their stroll.
She squinted when she saw man in a red leather coat perched atop a rock up ahead. "Who's that?" Bronn squinted to see as well, his face dropped as the recognition hit him.
"Jaime fucking Lannister."
-
Bronn had rushed Lollys back to the castle, both because he hated the way she looked at Jaime and to speak with him about he'd been wronged. "I'm here trying to make the best of this shitty deal your sister made with me and your little visit can't possibly mean anything good for me, so just get on with it so I can tell you to take your golden hand and fuck right off."
"Actually this visit is very good for you." Jaime appealed. "I would have advised against making a deal with Cersei, but either way, Lollys will be marrying Lord Bracken."
"How is this good for me?" Bronn was past tired of dealing with this family.
"Cause you're going to come with me and help me with something important to me." Bronn raised his right brow. "And when we return, I'm going to give you a much better girl and a much bigger castle."
"Returning from where?" Bronn sighed, he trusted Jaime more than Cersei at this point.
"As far south as south goes." The golden haired knight looked off into the waves, mind set on his daughter.
Dorne, The Water Gardens - Lower Pools
Dorea and Loreza Sand splashed about the pools beneath the main hall of the castle, their mother stood in the doorway waiting for them to notice. It was a sprawling room, with nine pools in total each deeper than the last. The elder, Dorea, was eight years of age, the younger Loreza was seven. Neither fully comprehended the loss of their father, only that everyone around them had turned somber. They'd caught Elia crying in her room one night not long ago but she ended up doing more to comfort them than the other way around. Ellaria couldn't wait any longer and cleared her throat, startling both her girls. They immediately rushed out of the pools and to her side, soaking her dress with their hugs.
"My darling girls, I'm sorry I could not wait a moment longer to hold you both." She kissed both their foreheads, her tears mixing with the pool water and spilling down her dress onto the pastel marble floor. Dorea looked up at her.
"Father's funeral is tomorrow." She spoke softly, not wanting to further upset her mother. "Yes dear, tomorrow at sunrise."
"Can I take your sadness?" Loreza pleaded in a squeaky voice.
"Oh Loree, these tears are not of sadness, I am beyond joyed to see you." She held them both close again. Her youngest beamed with affection. "Now, it is getting late, you should go. We have an early day tomorrow." Dorea took her sister's hand and led her out the door back up the stairs to their quarters. Alone again, Ellaria looked into the now still waters and saw her reflection, Oberyn behind her. She blinked and he was gone again and she sat alone. It was cold beneath the palace, her tears fell and she couldn't stop them.
Arms wrapped around her back and a head rested on her shoulders. Elia held her mother and let her cry into the pools. She stood up and embraced her oldest. "How beautiful you've grown El." Elia pointed her chin behind them and her mother turned around to see the elder Sand Snakes waiting. Ellaria greeted them each with a warm embrace and kissed Tyene on her forehead. "I take it you've spoken to your uncle about the Lannister delegation on their way for Myrcella." Elia nodded in response. "And what did Doran have to say?"
"He will mourn his brother and nothing more." Obara answered gruffly. "We must avenge father ourselves."
"We don't need his armies to start a war. A couple of dead lions will suffice." Lady Nym suggested, wrapping and unwrapping her whip around her left palm. Ellaria gave them a dissatisfied look.
"We will not start a war to avenge your father. He gave his life to avenge his sister but he would not have you give your lives to avenge him. Nor would I. I could not bear any more death. We can get our vengeance without all out war." Ellaria had piqued their interest, offering an alternative.
"How do we kill them all without war?" Tyene asked her mother earnestly, they would not be pacified without Lannister blood.
"We do not have to kill them to make them suffer. Cersei and the rest love their power above all else." Ellaria turned to face Elia. "How much lion remains in Myrcella?"
"She is more Dornish-woman than Lannister. Trys and her are enamored with each other, she is ours more than she ever was theirs." Elia spoke plainly. "She is one of us now." With that, the girls' faces lit with realization.
"Then we act. Myrcella has just as much claim to the Iron Throne as Tommen." Ellaria continued. "I've seen this boy king, he is nothing more than a plaything for them to control. Under Dornish law, the eldest living child is first to inherit, no matter the sex. With Joffrey dead and Myrcella betrothed to Trystane, Dornish law applies to the succession. She is the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
"So we just say Myrcella is queen and they have to step aside?" Obara questioned.
"Myrcella will have to make her claim to the throne herself." She clarified the main obstacle. "Will she be willing to cast her brother aside?"
"Trys can convince her, but I do not think it will take much. She wouldn't leave him." Elia chimed in. "Besides, she is quite accustomed to our ways here. She would not wish to return to her old position in the capitol."
"Then it is settled. Myrcella shall be queen and Trystane her royal consort. We shall oust the Lannisters from the power and Dorne will hold the Iron Throne." Lady Nym smirked and the rest of the Sands joined her toast.
"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken."
Dorne, The Water Gardens - Upper Terrace
It was still dark, yet the morning birds chirps filled the brisk air as Prince Trystane stood against the railing, feeling it brush against his face, eyes shut to the world. Light footsteps behind him snapped him out of his trance and he turned to see his betrothed. "Morning, my love." He bent forward and kissed her hand. "How was your sleep?"
"It was lovely." She smiled at him, although her thoughts were elsewhere. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. "I don't want to go back to King Landing's." Myrcella's face fell, dreading her imminent departure. Doran had cut the celebration of the previous evening short, announcing the soon arrival of Jaime Lannister who'd come to bring Myrcella back to live with her family. It had been all she could think about since.
"Well, I've been thinking about this." He took her arm and started leading her off the terrace, back into the palace, towards the back gates. As it was still quite dark, his arm lended her more security than affection. "What if you didn't have to go home as just a princess?"
"What do you mean?" Myrcella asked, confused.
"Dornish law upholds absolute primogeniture." Trystane started. "And since we're betrothed, this law applies to you as well. That would give you-"
"A claim to the throne." The words spilt out quietly. She was stunned she never considered this herself.
"Yes, and as queen, my cousins and I could accompany you to court and take positions on your council." Trystane finished. She interrupted him again, this time with a kiss. "It will not be easy, you'll have to oppose your family." He let her mull this over as they continued their hike. She was quiet as they made their way to the shoreline.
"I can do this." She stated at last. "The Martells have made me feel more at home than my own family ever did. You are my family now and I will right their wrongs for us." She squeezed his hand tight and they watched the funeral procession slowly made its way onto the beach.
Dorne, The Water Gardens - The Beach
The sun broke the horizon and shimmered in hundreds of colors across the calm waves. Prince Doran led the assembly, pushed in his chair by Hotah; Ellaria, Nymeria, Tyene, Sarella, Elia, Obella, Dorea, and Loreza followed closely behind them. All present wore their darkest attire, completely free of adornment. Then came the body, wrapped in the bright reds, oranges and golds of House Martell. It was layed on stretched canvas, carried to the pyre by Obara, Daemon Sand, Andrey Dalt, and Willas Tyrell. The four of them maneuvered Oberyn's body onto the large pyre and rejoined the group beside it. Myrcella noticed a small crowd forming around the pyre, visitors carrying banners she hadn't seen the day before. Uller and Manwoody, Dalt and Allyrion, Yronwood and Qorgyle; the many houses of Dorne sent embassies to pay their respects to their beloved prince.
Ellaria walked to his body and buried her head in his chest one last time. Daemon knelt beside her, placing his arm around her shoulders. They wept for a time, then he helped her to her feet to her place beside her daughters. Once they'd all gathered, Trystane released her hand and received a torch from Andrey. Myrcella quickly moved beside Willas, feeling more comfortable beside someone close to the family, yet not quite.
"Se Peldio Melne hen Dorne, se valonqar hen Vēzosegrio. Dōrī ēza konīr issare iā tolī drēje tresy hen Dorne." Myrcella turned to Willas, unfamiliar with the tongue being spoken, and tugged at his sleeve.
"What's he saying?" She muttered under her breath. Willas sighed and answered.
"It's High Valyrian, very uncommon." He translated in his softest voice, "The red viper of Dorne and younger brother of Sunspear. Never has there been a more true son of Dorne."
"Dārilaros Ōbryn Nȳhmēros Mahtrēl iksin mēre lēda se prūmia hen īlva people. Zȳhon vēzos iksis mazilībagon, yn daor zōbrie se īlon kessa zālagon syt zirȳla ēva ziry sīmonagon arlī." The prince's eulogy went on.
"Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell was one with the heart of our people. His sun is set, but not extinguished and we shall burn for him until it rises again." Willas did his best to translate quickly for the princess. The family's eyes were heavy with tears and they began to flow.
"Dobulilza, dobūljunti, dopryjatan!" Trystane finished his speech and held up his torch. Doran and all of the Sands held up their torches in return.
"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken." They echoed his call and simultaneously pierced the pyre with their torches. It caught and the flames consumed it in its entirety. Willas and Myrcella joined the family in their embraces, the heat of the pyre to their backs. The sun rose higher and higher in the sky as the flames roared, then glowed, then flickered before simmering to a blackened pile of wood. The assembly had mostly gone back to the palace, but not all.
"That was a lovely speech," Myrcella took Trystane's arm again, "I didn't know you spoke other languages." He smiled gently.
"My father had my uncle Syrav brought over from Norvos to tutor me when I was a child." He gave her the answer she was clearly seeking.
"I didn't know your father had another brother." She pressed on inquisitively.
"Oh, he was my mother's brother, she died when I was very young so he used to come and check in on me from time to time." He turned away from her to face the sun. "He hasn't visited for some time though, I could've used his calming voice today, telling me it'll all figure itself out." She saw a tear fall from his face and held his arm comfortingly.
"It will." She assured him, drying his face with her dress. "I know it will."
-
Ellaria was pushing Doran back to the palace alone. The rest had gone inside but they wanted a few more moments of quiet. They'd spoken of Oberyn and their fond memories. "He lived, he truly lived." The prince stated. "Sailed around the world, fought men from every country and lay with the most beautiful women and men alive. He experienced everything, while I stayed here in Dorne, doing my best to keep my people alive and well-fed." There was no envy or malice in his voice, he was glad his brother got to live as he pleased. "But that is life, we each have our roles to play. Oberyn was born to be an adventurer and I was born to rule."
"The gods are not fools," Ellaria responded, "You would have been a lousy adventurer. And Oberyn would've been a terrible ruler." She let out a soft laugh, imagining her lover sat at a desk, drowning in a sea of parchment. Doran joined her in joy, a brief moment of calm. The grief hit them in another wave and she pushed him back up the beach in silence.
As they reached the gates and saw into the palace, another embassy had arrived: House Dayne. "If he's here it means only one thing." She let it hang in the air. The desperation in her voice more palpable than ever, she went on, "Oberyn died seeking vengeance for Elia, now the whole country seeks vengeance for him. If we should die, must my girls seek vengeance for us? Is that how it goes, round and round forever? Where does it end?"
"There will be no war. It is the one thing I will not abide." Ellaria knelt beside his chair and kissed his cheek. He rested his hand over hers and offered a weak smile. "I would not light any more pyres."
End