Destiny of Man

Chapter 3: The Dragons of Dorne

"Victory? What use is victory? Give me a battle of annihilation!"

King Mern IX Gardener before having his army destroyed by Aegon the Conqueror

Under the Dornish sun, it'd be foolish to say the Water Gardens were anything other than beautiful. Sitting in a secluded alcove with a book open on my lap, I was surrounded by intricate wooden trellis almost submerged under creeping groundsel. They were lush and green and sprouted yellow flowers that tickled my skin whenever I leaned back. Before me was a marble pathway leading to a series of pools and was shadowed by pergola green with woody vines. There were flowers and plants everywhere, giving the Water Gardens its fragrant spicy scent.

Whoever had designed the place had clearly been inspired by Rhoynish architecture. The Water Gardens was intended to create an earthly utopia in which people co-existed in perfect harmony with all elements of nature. The ancient Rhoynar were a peaceful and open people who didn't look for conflict but instead focused on perfecting what they already had. They taught the secrets of metalworking to the Andals and when the Valyrians first appeared they welcomed the settlers to set up what would later become Volantis. They built floating cities on the Rhoyne and sprawling palaces and temples that were renowned the world over before the Valyrians grew harsh after their conquest of the Ghiscari Empire and turned their cruel eyes upon the people of the Rhoyne. The Water Gardens were meant to evoke the Rhoynish desire for peace both spiritually and physically. Wide and open, full of channels of water and flowers, they were to provide comfort to the masters of the palace.

That was what it'd been made to do, for sure. But the serene feeling the architect imagined that would soothe the soul had long since disappeared thanks to Daenerys' gentle heart. In its place were cries and shouts of children running around. Nearly every day it was loud and unruly. But thanks to the palace's size it wasn't hard to find a secluded alcove away from the others. It was during these peaceful lessons that I knew what the creators were going for.

After a morning of lessons with Septa Lily in the small sept with my kin, I had opted to sit alone, relax, and catch up on the histories of the Seven Kingdoms. That had been the idea anyway, but I regularly came to find out that plans seldom survived contact with the enemy – or my cousins in this case.

Now children were playing in the waters before me, led by a rowdy five-year-old Obella and several other young boys and girls wading across the pools and splashing each other in water fights. If water balloons were a thing there was no doubt they'd be lobbing them at each other and those sunbathing on plush blankets just far enough away to avoid being splashed. I didn't want to be them should Obella decide the pools were too restrictive.

I smiled despite myself and returned to my book. Fire and Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn. The in-universe version of the Targaryen history book written by George R.R. Martin. From what I could recollect from the same history book, there wasn't much difference. The first book listed the history of the dragons from Aegon the Conqueror to the beginning of the reign of Aegon the Third dismissing his regents. The pictures were worse than what I remembered, but that was just the natural course of the images being drawn by hand. Not to mention there were some spelling mistakes. That could be blamed on the scribe copying long into the night and growing sloppy. It also reminded me how much Gyldayn was obsessed with sex. He waxed disturbingly poetically about the beauty of six-year-old princesses and broke off from telling the history of House Targaryen to instead speak about A Caution for Young Girls which was an underage girl's sexcapades across the world. The most charitable thing I could say was that he was a dirty old man who was clearly working out his frustrations about being in a celibate order.

Maybe if he jerked himself off once in a while I wouldn't have to keep skipping pages, I thought bitterly. His little tirades ruined what was a perfectly reasonable history book. Even so, it was still better than some of the other books I'd been forced to read by Marwyn. They were long, laborious, and dry tomes that made my eyes grow heavy after only a few pages. But I was ever the resourceful child and took advantage of such sorcery by reading said books when I needed to sleep but had too much energy to do so. They never failed me once.

A pair of shadows materialised over me suddenly and I snapped my head up to look at the two newcomers. One of which belonged to my sister who was cocking her head at me. Rhaenys was smiling and edged closer to get a better look at the book I was reading. She was two years older than me and was wearing snakeskin sandals laced up to her knees and a simple shift. Appearing more and more like a slenderer Arianne, her mane of jet-black ringlets passed beyond the small of her back and had clearly been dishevelled by something. Wind perhaps?

The other girl, Rhae's closest companion who wasn't a Sand Snake, was Lyarra Sand, Ashara Dayne's natural daughter and a possible Stark bastard. She was holding the princess's hand and had averted her eyes from me. Purple eyes like me and Rhae. Only ten years old, she was a pretty girl who was promised to become a great beauty like her mum someday. Her looking down at her feet rather than at me brought back memories. I could still remember Lyarra holding her mother's hand when she first arrived at the Water Gardens. Believe it or not, she'd been even shyer back then, and would hide behind her mother's skirts at every opportunity. Once, when Elia took Lya in her arms, the little girl tried to hide her face in the princess's neck. It had been adorable and, not wanting me to be left alone, I was seated upon Lady Ashara's lap where I was rewarded with cuddles as both mothers cooed and awed at us.

I smiled at them both.

"Sweet sister and brave Lyarra. What's brought you here? Has the sun got too much? Do you desire some shade under my abode? Or do you miss my company?" I flashed them my trademark and very much patented grin. If young Lyarra was blushing before, she was red as a tomato now.

"We—I . . . I . . ." the younger girl stuttered, looking down at her sandals and visually shrank into herself.

Rhaenys squeezed her friend's hand and gave me the look. The look telling me to be kind to her, to not mess around and be serious. I wasn't going to do such a thing anyway. Lyarra was a desert flower and sensitive to even the slightest poke or witticism. Even if I found enjoyment in teasing her, I had no intention of hurting the little star. I could also sympathise with her from my own past . . .

"What is it you want?" I asked her, smiling to keep the little girl at ease.

That caused the girl to blush even more, and only another gentle squeeze from Rhae got Lyarra to face me. Shyness clouded her sweet delicate features and a stubborn strand of hair tumbled between her eyes. No doubt she'd be embarrassed by that as well, but I found it adorable. "I-I brought these for you."

Her eyes barely met mine for longer than a brief moment before she found my sandals more appealing. I tried my best to stifle a chuckle but failed miserably. That only served to halt her but another comforting squeeze from Rhae had Lyarra slowly bring me a collection of seashells. There were several of them of all shapes and sizes. There were cones and clams and thin disks. Some were pale, others dark, some sprinkled with patterns while others were smooth and slim and long. If Lyarra was worried I might not like one, she was going to avert that by getting me one of everything.

"My sandals thank you for your most splendid of gifts," I told the girl in jest then more seriously said, "Thank you for the gift, Lya. They are pretty. Where did you get them?" I knew where they got them from, but it never hurt to ask. The Water Gardens was positioned on the coast, and it wasn't hard to guess it also included its own private beach where we could walk along, play in the sand, or go swimming.

The younger girl bit her bottom lip, tongue-tied, so Rhae spoke up, "We were walking the beach. The weather is wonderful, and the sands are much calmer than the pools. We decided to go collecting seashells. We thought it'd be a good idea to give them out as gifts."

Noticing she had none in her hands, I gave her a boyish pout. "And you came to me last, sister? Your own brother? What does this tell me of our relationship?"

"You were too busy in your book, sweet brother. I thought it'd be wrong of us to disturb your . . ." she glanced down at the book and her expression flickered, "favourite histories of our house. There are better books out there."

"Really? Well then. You'll have to tell me. Colour me intrigued. I'm listening patiently."

Rhaenys rolled her lovely indigo eyes. "The Loves of Queen Nymeria is a far superior and less dry read."

"Because you love romance like our sweet cousin Arianne," I bobbed my head up and down.

"As well as the Ten Thousand Ships," Rhae continued, ignoring my words. "They are better to read and don't have Archmaester Gyldayn indulging in his perverse fantasies."

"We can agree with that at least. What about the History of the Rhoynish Wars considering you want me to read our Dornish history more than our Targaryen one?"

"Uncle Doran says Maester Warryn got some things wrong in his recounting, but it is otherwise a decent read. Still dry though, as maesters tend to be."

A good sister and a dutiful princess, but she still has a passion for romance and adventure.

I'd admit to not helping that because I spoiled my family with stories. Stories that came easier to me because I shamelessly stole them from my old world. Stories like Avatar (the good one) or Lord of the Rings and many others. Needless to say, they called me Aegon the Poet or Aegon the Storyteller, and mother said if I hadn't been born a prince I'd have a good life as a travelling bard. I'd been shy when I began my stories, but having a crescent of people eating my every word was a good confidence booster and one of the many ways I managed to crawl out of the shell I had formed around myself.

"Do you have anything you wish to add, Lya? It looks like you do."

The cutie bit her lip. "The Loves of Queen Nymeria is a wonderful read."

"Enough so for me to read it a few times, my lady."

It wasn't my favourite. I preferred the Ten Thousand Ships telling Nymeria's story of making the hard decision of leaving all she knew and setting sail where they snuck past the Valyrian armies with the help of the Old Men of the River. It was a tragedy of sailing across the world in the hopes of finding a new home and recounting the tales of her ragged fleet limping to the Basilisk Isles, Sothoryos, and the Summer Isles before settling in Dorne. The Loves was more focused on her relationships with the three men Nymeria married once she landed in Westeros.

"I especially liked the part where Princess Nymeria – princess, not queen – fell in love with Mors Martell. It was clearly a marriage based on politics in his desire to expand further outwards and saw in Nymeria's people and ships a chance to do just that. Initially, it had only been her power and the foreign princess's beauty that attracted him. But he soon fell in love with her cunning, wisdom, and indomitable will. Just as she did with his dedication and service to her. It would have been a wonderful marriage—"

"Should Mors not have met his end in the Third Battle of the Boneway," Rhae finished for me. She had taken a seat on the stone bench and patted the space next to her for Lyarra who accepted without a moment's hesitation. "Princess Nymeria had wept when she saw her husband's body and promised to avenge him which she did two years later. The last king of Yronwood, King Yorick Yronwood the Fifth of his Name, the richest and most powerful Dornish king at the time, was forced to bend the knee to the widow he created and was sent to the Wall in golden fetters."

"After which she married Lord Uller of Hellholt as a reward for his faithful service," little Lyarra eagerly added.

"She did indeed, little star," Rhae said to her, taking the younger girl's hands in hers, entwining their fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze. "Lord Uller was old and an Andal who tried to overrule her. He tried so hard, but Princess Nymeria was stronger and refused to bend or break. Instead, it was her husband who did. Nymeria proved herself the unquestioned ruler of all Dorne. When he died, she took the dashing Ser Davos Dayne as her husband. The Sword of the Morning was handsome and kind and dutiful as could be. Unlike Lord Uller, Ser Davos didn't attempt to take the crown from her, but instead knew and understood the princess, and served faithfully as consort and counsellor, and would later serve his stepdaughter just as well."

"A loyal hand and a formidable fighter," I agreed. "Are there any other books you like, Lya?"

The girl blushed once again and averted her gaze. "W-wonders Made—Made b-by M-Man," she shuttered, growing redder in the face with every syllable.

All it did was make me feel even more protective. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around Lyarra and hold her tight. She would enjoy that, I'd no doubt. I hadn't been unwise to the many nervous looks she sent my way when she believed I wasn't looking, or how she was shier around me than anyone else.

"Now that's a good book! You have good taste in books. No doubt Rhae will complain it's a long read." I flashed my sister a grin as she pursed her lips. "I for one know Lomas Longstrider was clearly passionate and wants his readers to be so as well. Do you want to visit anywhere you've read about? I mean, if you could, would you?"

Lya bit her pretty lips. "O-of the nine? Ah . . . I-I wouldn't . . . no. I can't say that."

"What is it?" Rhae asked. "Pray, tell us."

"T-the festival city of Chroyane," Lyarra blushed hard. "I-I know it's meant to be haunted. That ghosts walk around at night. But it's meant to have been beautiful. The festival city was once the richest in the Rhoyne and has the Palace of Love. They say it's like. . . I don't know but they said it's ten times the size of the Red Keep but hundreds of times more beautiful."

"Uncle Oberyn and Doran sailed up there once," Rhaenys told her with a bright smile. "It's something many Martells do when they come of age. They sail through our ancestral lands and see our past and hope the lessons and revelations would help guide our path forward."

"I wouldn't mind visiting either," I told them. I wouldn't mind rebuilding the Rhoyne as well.

Maybe it was the child in me talking. The child who was naïve to this world and all its woes after being sheltered in the Water Gardens all his life, but I had great plans for the future. Foolish plans more cynical people might say. But I had dreams and was that so bad? One of which was that once the Seven Kingdoms were ours, we would expand across the Narrow Sea to the Free Cities, remove the shackles of slavery as Daenerys had done, and repair the ruins that'd been unpopulated since the Doom of Valyria.

Was it ambitious?

Sure.

Was it wise?

Maybe not.

But many great things wouldn't exist if people were always playing it safe and being reasonable.

"Going to follow our uncle's example are you?" my sister turned to me with a glint in her eyes. "Who are you going to take? Not going on your lonesome, are you?"

"Just me and a couple friends," I told her, stretching out and flashing her a roguish grin. "Quentyn, Trystane, a few others. Vagabonds exploring the Rhoyne. Our swords at our sides and who knows what in front of us." I leaned closer to her, and my voice became a soft purr, "Maybe a tavern wrench or farmer's daughter to warm our beds."

She wracked me on the shoulder then. A playful and gentle wrack. Rhaenys tried to frown but failed to do so. "Neither of us needs to hear your filth, Egg."

I laughed. "What's wrong with boys being boys, eh? In all seriousness though, I do want to go. Trystane might be too young, but Quentyn's closer to age with me. I do miss him. We haven't seen him since he left for Yronwood." My favourite frog . . .

That Rhae could agree on. "We still get letters from him, but I do miss his face and his voice."

"H-how is he doing o-over there?" Lya stuttered.

"We only get messages, so we only know what he wants to tell us," was my answer. "But from what we get, well, he's doing fine. He's made friends with Cletus Yronwood, heir of Lord Anders Yronwood, his cousin Archibald as well as Gerris Drinkwater and Willam Wells. There are a few others I believe but they're the main ones. Overall, he's doing great!"

"I hope so," she said shyly. "He's sweet."

Sweet, earnest, sensible and dutiful, but solemn and lacking in confidence.

My cousin was only a year older than myself and had been my closest companion in the Water Gardens. We looked nothing alike. Quent short-legged and stocky, me cleaned-limbed and tall. Him plain with drab brown hair and eyes, me with archetypical Targaryen pretty boy looks which came with hair like platinum and eyes like jewels. No way did that help with his confidence at all. For goodness sake, I was pretty sure my self-confidence would've dropped off a cliff if my playmate was a princely dreamboat who had the intelligence of an adult. Though I had missed his companionship, it was for the best. He had gone to Yronwood and became a ward of Lord Anders where he'd learn knighthood as well as make friends and companions who weren't outshining him in everything.

"I do miss, Quent," Rhaenys remarked. "I miss whenever I spoke to him and he'd blush. Oh, remember when we were climbing those trees and he got stuck and couldn't get back down?" Rhaenys released an undignified snort, threw her head back and howled with laughter so much unlike her usual controlled ladylike giggles always covered with the back of her hand. Then again, she also inherited our mother's humour, and when she truly laughed Rhaenys found it difficult to stop.

"What happened?" Lya asked, intrigued.

I smiled softly at the look on my sister's face. Her being unreserved and blissfully imperfect was so different from how she tried to portray herself as the perfect princess. She failed many times though. She was only a young girl – or a woman as she liked to claim – but the Water Gardens didn't exactly teach one how to be formal and polite, unlike the more structured upbringing one could expect from the Red Keep or Casterly Rock or Winterfell. It was the childlike, blissful smile of the precocious child who followed Uncle Oberyn and Doran around, begging them to let her ride their shoulders.

"It is quite the story," I grinned playfully, not giving anything away.

Once Rhae managed to stop herself guffawing, she wiped her eyes and smiled at the younger girl. "It was nothing that bad in all honesty. The boys were young and silly with Quentyn and Aegon daring each other. Egg told Quent he hadn't had it in him to climb the tree."

"It was just me being an idiot," I butted in. "We were little. The tree was tall. I pointed to the apples on the highest branches and told him he wouldn't be able to reach them after saying the sweetest apples are those furthest from the ground."

He wanted to pick one and hand it to Rhaenys. He loved her smile. He loved her laughing at his jokes when he could get one out without stuttering, and he blushed so hard when she took his arm in hers. Quentyn wanted to beat me at something for he'd always been second. I refused to climb for I knew my limits, but Quent didn't know his. Like the boy he was, my cousin was more concerned with what others would think of him.

Rhae nodded along. "He wanted those apples and swore he'd get me the tastiest apples he could. He climbed up the branches and, when he got to the middle, our coz looked down and . . ." she smiled. "It was wrong to do, I know, but it was funny seeing his face as he realised how far above the ground he was. He started hugging the tree and began crying."

"Y-you were laughing?" Lyarra Sand cried, distraught. "That's mean!"

"You should have been there though," I chuckled softly behind a knuckle. "He didn't get hurt or anything. No need to worry about that. But he was hugging the trunk for dear life. I had to run to Hotah and when he appeared with his mighty axe, Quent thought he was going to chop the tree down with him still on it. That didn't happen though that would've been a sight to see. Instead, Hotah planted his axe to the side and climbed up, tore Quent from his branch, and carried him down on his shoulders. He wouldn't speak to us for a week afterwards. No matter how many lemon cakes we presented him."

"I-I don't think I can ever look at you the same way again," the little girl told us, folding her arms. She tried to screw her face into a frown, but children were never the most controlled individuals and after only a few seconds she giggled with a wide grin.

"You're right," I bobbed my head. "My sister and I are despicable little creatures. Rhae especially. At least I went to get help. You were on the floor laughing at our cousin's misfortunes."

Her response was wracking me on the arm and making me laugh. "Shut up, Egg! You were laughing as well and the one who dared him to climb the tree!"

"I am a true mastermind," I agreed. Whether that'll reflect onto the Seven Kingdoms would be another subject, I had no doubt. "What do you say we have a walk, ladies? The weather is nice, and I've been sitting here since, oh, I don't know, maybe two hours all the while struggling to read."

"Having difficulty with the words?" Rhaenys' eyes sparkled.

"No. Because I keep getting distracted by my sister and her friend." I smiled though, stood up and offered little Lyarra my hand. "Would you care to do me the honour?"

Blushing, the ten-year-old daughter of Ashara Dayne accepted the offer without delay. She was thankfully tall for her age, so Lyarra Sand wasn't the smallest thing in the Water Gardens, and I didn't have to lean down to escort her. Rhae, unhappy to be left alone, was quick to take my other arm.

Flashing me a smile, she said, "I hope you don't intend to leave a princess to walk by her lonesome, dear brother. That would be most very unprincely of you."

"Scared of some bandit bursting out of the bushes? You never know what they might be hiding."

"There might be. One of Robert's hired knives who's discovered us and will leap out with sword at the ready and a desire to be titled dragonslayer." Rhaenys pulled close to me. Close enough that I could smell the flowery perfumes she poured into her hair and feel the warmth radiating from her soft body.

Though I wasn't unfamiliar with escorting a girl from one location to another as part of my upbringing as a Westerosi nobleman, I seldom had the chance to escort two in both arms. As we walked down the marble path I could feel many pairs of eyes on me. Would this be what it'll be like when I'm married? Though I'd been given a maester, it was mother who served as my cultural tutor and told me what I should accept and how I could deal with it. When she'd been married to Rhaegar, their marriage ceremony had been in the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing. From what she said, it had been a beautiful sept and wasn't that dissimilar from your standard Christian wedding though there were some differences as could be expected.

It made me wonder who I'd marry. I was still too young for anyone to speak to me about it. But there were a few guesses as to who it might very well be. Lady Margaery Tyrell was, of course, the first option. She was the daughter of a great house that controlled the second-largest province in the Seven Kingdoms, rich thanks to its fertile soil and the most populated allowing it to call upon massive armies. That sounded like it was a certain thing. I'll marry the Rose of Highgarden and be granted its massive armies of knights to fight the Usurper, and it'll be done and dusted.

But that was only if House Tyrell looked at me, decided I'd make a good king that'll serve their interests, and agree to such a match.

There wasn't even any certainty House Martell would agree to such a thing either. There was tension between Dorne and the Reach and while one person might raise their hand and say a marriage between me and Margaery would help bridge that gap, I'd politely inform you that you didn't know how much the two regions hated each other, and just how long and deep family feuds could go. Just ask the Blackwoods and Brackens.

Depending on what happened, Sansa Stark was another possibility on the table, and I honestly wouldn't mind that arrangement. She was a little young, for sure, but she was also courtly and kind and adorable. She carried the blood of the North but also brought along the Riverlands and possibly the Vale thanks to Lysa Arryn's marriage with Lord Jon Arryn. At least on paper. I doubted the Vale would get involved so long as Lysa ruled as regent so I could safely throw them aside.

There was the possibility, as distant as it was, that I might marry Rhaenys in the Targaryen fashion. I looked at my sister chatting away with Lyarra. She was certainly pretty and promised to become a great beauty when she was older. She was empathetic and intelligent, dedicated to what she believed in, as well as courteous when she was Rhaenys the Princess and not Rhaenys the Girl. But she was also my sister. I doubted Mother and our uncles would throw away two perfect candidates for marriage alliances for a tradition that wasn't theirs nor did they support.

There were a few other marriages as well. There were the Iron Isles, but few trusted them, and Asha wasn't exactly queen material. There were the Hightowers and an assortment of houses scattered across the Seven Kingdoms, but they were too small to help House Martell against the might of the Iron Throne. Then there was Myrcella who could serve as Elizabeth of York to my Henry Tudor who, instead of being in France, decided to hide in his ancestral Wales. That would help with the Lannisters should Tommen and Joffrey be removed, and if Stannis failed to spread the news of their incestuous bastardy or it failed to take root in the population's consciousness.

Then there was the elephant in the room.

And what of Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Shackles and Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea?

The young girl who'll be sailing with three dragons and a foreign army made of freed slaves, legions of Unsullied, Dothraki and sellswords and possibly Ironborn if the theories were correct. How correct? I couldn't say. It wasn't written in stone and might not even happen. Daenerys was still a young girl and under the protective care of Viserys whatever that meant. While I did my thing in Westeros, she might follow the books or something else might happen instead. There were good and bad things happening with either. If she hatched dragons and stopped at the stations of canon, that'd mean she'd have three dragons useful against the Others beyond the Wall but, after everything she needed to face before that point, would she be sympathetic to her niece and nephew who otherwise had a carefree childhood and didn't extend so much as a helping hand towards her? Would she be willing to put aside what she saw as her claim to help us? Or will we fight? I knew she wanted a family. That she wasn't the only Targaryen in the world and had a family to take care of her. But if you believed you were the last and suddenly not and everything you worked hard to achieve suddenly became worthless, would you raise your arms in the air and give up or continue the course?

Family or not, Daenerys was still the greatest threat thanks to those dragons of hers.

Might as well add Jon Snow to that list, I mused. He might be kin as the bastard offspring of Rhaegar and Lyanna. Or he might be Lyarra Sand who was currently hugging my arm, nodding along with Rhaenys but otherwise staring at me with the loving eyes of a girl with her first crush. If that was the case, female Jon Snow was very unlike the original.

"Egg. Egg!"

"Huh?" I glanced at my sister.

"You were doing that thing again," Rhae politely informed me, rolling her eyes. "Were you even listening?"

"No. I'm sorry. I was thinking," I replied, feeling my cheeks redden. I really need to stop getting distracted.

"Yea? What about?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Just our future, y'know. About what we might face in the future when we, well, when we retake the Iron Throne from the usurpers. Robert Baratheon, Tywin Lannister, and the others. There're a few of them and there's just us two and Dorne. It'll be a tough fight."

We lacked the dragons and that was a reason I wanted to head to Daenerys if given the opportunity. If she hatched dragons when we were around, we could easily snag them and her and return to Dorne. Of course, doing such a thing could make it so the dragons didn't hatch in the first place. Maybe we should camp out in Qarth so that once she arrives from the wastes, we ferry her quickly away from Slaver's Bay. I didn't like the idea of doing that though. I hated slavery as every sane person did, and I didn't like the idea of those slaveholders still drawing breath longer than necessary. But, on the other hand, going on an anti-slavery crusade after taking Westeros would give us a much larger power base to launch an invasion of Essos and the resources to pull it off.

Rhaenys bobbed her head. "That is something of a concern. It shouldn't worry us though. Uncle Doran is planning everything. I just know it. The Usurpers shouldn't suspect a thing. They think we're somewhere in Essos. That's what mother says."

"You can do it!" Lyarra was quick to agree. "You're both the wisest people I know!"

"Even more so than Elia and Doran?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

She blushed. Lyarra blushed prettily. It made me want to reach over and pinch her cheeks. "Them too." She giggled. "But you two are the wisest I know after them."

"Not Uncle Oberyn?" Rhae asked, aghast. "He's still your senior and taught you a lot."

"But I wouldn't say he's wise. Intelligent, without a doubt. But wise?" I shook my head and flashed my sister a grin. "There is a difference between being sensible and being smart. Our dearest uncle is too hot-blooded for such a thing, and I'm pretty sure Oberyn himself would agree with me."

"And with that, we agree, little brother." Rhae giggled. "I don't think it's wise to tell him that though."

"That may be wise, Rhaenys. That may be wise."