Where the North was the coldest place that Aenar had been to, Dorne was the hottest. Not even Valyria was this hot. Though the volcanoes going beneath the seas and the lava drying might have been the reason for that. Dorne was rocky, mountainous, dry and most desert. The Red Mountains separated Dorne from the Stormlands to the North, and the Reach to the Northwest and West.
There were no Dornish spearmen guarding the Prince's Pass when Aenar flew over it. Why would there be? For all intents in purposes Dorne and the Crown were allies, no matter how short their alliance against the Storm King had been. Aenar flew above the red sands and the white, but he did not stop until he'd reached Sunspear. He was not here to demand the submission of any of the Dornish Lords. His business was not with anyone but Meria Martell.
When Aenar arrived at Sunspear finally, he found the Princess of Dorne there to receive him, possibly her son and possibly her granddaughter stood to the side.
Meria Martell was eighty years of age and had ruled Dorne for sixty of those years. She was very fat, blind, and almost bald, her skin sallow and sagging.
Her son was not as old but he was not a young man either. Whiteness had already invaded his dark hair and he did not look too healthy either.
Her granddaughter on the other hand was what one would call the picture of youth, her tanned skin almost glowing and her dark eyes arched in a way to attract attention. Her hair, dark and luscious, fell elegantly along her back. But she was no young woman, the small wrinkles, barely visible unless she stood under certain lights at certain angles, were proof of that.
"Princess" Aenar greeted the monarch of Dorne as one would expect to greet a monarch, with a respectful bow.
Meria Martell already approved him for it.
"Prince" Meria's nod was short, but not curt. "Our alliance against that Old Fool Argillac has borne us fruit. I hear your half-brother now sits as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. How long has it been since our alliance?"
"More than a year, almost two, mother" her son answered, much to the shock of Aenar.
Has it been that long already? Has all the flying and fighting messed with his understanding of time? Or whatever messed with the flow of time in Valyria is still messing with him?
"Almost two years… And now you come to see us" Meria said dryly.
"We were fighting a War, Princess. I apologise for any insult unknowingly given. But we needed to focus on those wars otherwise our enemies would take advantage and we'd lose what we'd gain."
"Yes, Yes, I know what you mean boy" Meria waved him off. "Why are you here now? Another alliance perhaps? Or are you here to ask us to swear allegiance to your brother?"
Well, she liked to get to the point if nothing else.
"Your men have fought alongside ours, Princess. No doubt you've heard of the kind of man my brother is, how he rules and what his nature is. Surely such a man wouldn't be the worst King to your people."
"Dorne has no King," the Princess said.
"Once upon a time Dorne did not have a Prince or Princess either" Aenar pointed out. "I have read about Princess Nymeria, about how strong-willed and indomitable she was, and how she carried cunning, skill and wisdom as well. She sailed with women and children to escape the fate of certain death. Some say she filled ten thousand ships, some saw much fewer. But she saved lives, many lives. This war we have to fight if you do not bed the knew, how many would die? Perhaps you know ways to kill us as well, maybe even kill a dragon in the process. But not before people burn and die. We can avoid all of that, all the bloodshed, you just need to bend the knee to my brother."
The Princess was silent for a while.
"You speak with a sweet tongue, Prince. Using my ancestor as an example to show that even I have a chance to save lives here, like Nymeria did" she chuckled, before her face grew serious. "Our words are Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. You may burn us all, but you will not bend us, break us, or make us bow. This is Dorne. You are not wanted here. Return at your peril."
Aenar dipped his head before stepping back.
"Very well, Princess."
And with that, Aenar left.
Aenar flew back to regroup with his brother, first stopping at Highgarden before heading to Oldtown.
Oldtown was easily the greatest city in all of Westeros, ringed about with massive walls and ruled by the Hightowers of the Hightower, the oldest, richest, and most powerful of the noble houses of the Reach. Oldtown was also the centre of the Faith, where dwelt the High Septon, Father of the Faithful, the voice of the new gods on earth, who commanded the obedience of millions of devout throughout the realms barring the North, (there was only one family that followed the Seven up there) and the blades of the order of the Stars and Swords.
Even then when Aegon approached Oldtown with his host, he found the city gates open and Lord Hightower waiting to make his submission. It was the will of the gods, the High Septon had told him, and so he knelt and surrendered his crown to Aegon with no challenge.
When Aenar arrived, he was received by Lord Hightower's oldest son and heir Addam. The man was much older than Aenar, possibly closer if not a little older than Visenya. He had his own family, a wife and three sons. Addam escorted Aenar to his brother, who was having an animated but lighthearted discussion with Lord Hightower while Rhaenys spoke with Lady Hightower, a woman, and a girl not too far from them. When Aegon and Rhaenys had spotted Aenar, both smiled at him with both relief and happiness.
But all Aenar could do was smile tightly, trying his best to hide the disappointment he felt.
"Do not beat yourself over it too much, Prince Aenar. Meria Martell is nothing if not stubborn. Some would say too stubborn for her own good" Manfred Hightower said kindly, "you would have needed to work a miracle to get her to bend the knee."
Aenar informed his brother of what occurred at Sunspear, about how he had failed to secure the Dornish submission. Lord Hightower, his wife Lady Alerie, his heir Addam Hightower, his daughter-in-law Lady Amiyah and his daughter Lady Gwyne Hightower were all present for that.
"Fear not brother, we'll have Dorne soon. It would have been preferable to have it peacefully, but if it is war they wish then we shall bring them Fire and Blood" Aegon promised.
Rhaenys gently rubbed Aenar's arm and smiled at him.
"You have been on the fly nonstop, from the North to the Iron Islands, then to Riverrun and Highgarden, Dorne and finally here. Rest brother. Three days from now Aegon will be crowned. We shall worry about the rest after that" Rhaenys said kindly.
Aenar smiled at his sister, taking in her expression, her kindness, her love. No, he'd need to start thinking right away. He wouldn't lose her. He'd kill them all if he needed to, but he would not allow them to take his sister from him.