Aliandra became Princess of Dorne almost two years ago.
Her father, Prince of Dorne, Qoren Martell, ruled since he was twelve and, for fifty years, had maintained their independence with little conflict with the dragonlords to the North of them.
Then, he involved himself prematurely in the war for the Stepstones between the Velaryons and the Triarchy. For three years, Dornishmen died fighting for the shipping lanes and victory appeared in sight until the man who stood before her had gotten involved with Reachmen war galleys.
They lost a number of men before Prince Qoren withdrew back to Sunspear. Three more years later, Baelon the Conqueror defeated the Triarchy led by Admiral Sharako Lohar.
She was glad her father died before then, or he would have surely had a stroke.
"Dorne has danced with dragons before; I would not do so again... " Was his last words.
Aliandra wept, of course, and so did her sister Coryanne and Qyle. He was going to be missed, or more, his neutrality as he would have surely said no to what she assumes is a request for support.
Baelon Targaryen, first of his name, declared himself King in the wake of the chaos left behind by Viserys Targaryen's death.
He was handsome, she had to admit, as she had never met a Targaryen before this. She's never even been to Lys, though she hoped to go, the dreams of a girl who had big dreams then was made to grow up.
"What do you want, Silver King?" She asked from the Sunburst throne.
"I have come on behalf of myself to ask for your Kingdom's support." Baelon said bluntly and continued, "As you may have heard, my younger brother usurped my throne, and though I have men and ships, I require more for my campaign to retake my throne."
Her man, Ser Ulrick Dayne, huffed, "Usurped, you say, but the majority know your King named his daughter his heir."
"That might have been so, Ser Ulrick, but my great-grandsire set forth a well-known precedent that male primogeniture trumps any female in the line of succession." Baelon said with a smirk, "I am simply upholding the traditions of the realm."
"Andal law. First Men law." Aliandra spoke while rising from her throne, "It must be bothering to see me, a woman holding all the power."
The silver-haired man shrugged in response, "Far from it, Princess, I am in awe."
She smirked this time, narrowing her eyes a little in suspicion. "But you mean to be the sole King, passing this Realm's Delight and her children?" Baelon Targaryen frowned. She was giddy, toying with the would-be King.
A whispered tone called from her lips, "Why not be truthful to yourself, Your Grace." She walked around him and glanced up and down as she circled the King. "You declared yourself the King because you wanted it, not because you think it should be yours."
He seemed to want to refuse her statement, call her a liar, or denounce what she said as a falsehood, but in the end, he merely held his silence.
Qyle chuckled from the left of her protector, "What is it you want, again, Dragonlord?" Her brother asked.
Baelon breathed in and opened his mouth, "The Dornish was the only one to bring to heel my ancestors. I ask for Dornish assistance in my war for my throne."
Aliandra was a little unsure. She could offer her army in exchange for fair terms and a price... Or she could say no and send him on his way.
Then again, the dragonlord before her interests her, and she would like to get a measure of him before deciding what to do and where to take her people in this Dance of the Dragons that fishermen and merchants alike are calling.
"Have the steward ready a room for our guests." She commanded to the surprise of her brother Victor. She then turned to her new visitor, "I would be honored to share a meal with you, King Baelon of the Stepstones."
Baelon looked stunned but bowed his head low in respect, "Thank you, Princess, I would be honored."
Aliandra smiled and allowed her guest to leave, and she sat back down on her throne, her mind heavy with thoughts and illusions of what could be.
It wasn't long before her sister arrived, coming from Hellholt on a diplomatic visit. She had been betrothed to Lord Arthan Uller's heir, Florin. She noticed Coryanne was a little upset, which meant she was in for another scolding.
"You let a Targaryen land on our sands?"
Aliandra scoffed, "Was that you under the curtain, hearing every word?" She embraced her sister and stepped back, "He means to stay for a day or two, to sweet talk and get our support."
"And you mean to say no, yes?" When she didn't answer, Coryanne groaned, "Targaryen's can't be trusted. You remember our father lost a war to them, and our grandfather before. What were you thinking?"
"I won't be questioned by a younger sibling, sister." Aliandra snapped finally, tired of being bothered. She sauntered towards one of the glass windows and looked out onto the courtyard where Baelon's dragon was lying in the shadier part of the palace.
The Last Shadow was indeed a menacing beast.
She had dreamt of flying dragons, the creatures that gave her people so much torment and grief since Valyria's golden age and conquest. They were fearsome and their riders always said to be beautiful.
It seemed both were true.
"What are you thinking about, Ali?" Qyle asked as he stood beside Coryanne, his tone curious and suspicious.
"Please, just prepare a feast for myself and his Grace and only us." She turned on her feet and left the room, leaving Coryanne and Qyle to whisper to one another as they like to do.
The forces of the Blacks, led by Samwell Blackwood, and the Greens, led by Amos Bracken, collided near the borders between the two families' lands.
The battle was filled with bloodshed, as warriors from both sides clashed fiercely, fighting with the same intensity that had been seen for centuries.
Lord Samwell Blackwood was felled by Amos Bracken, who was then slain by an arrow from the bow of Lady Alysanne Blackwood, or Black Aly as she would be called after the battle.
In the end, the Battle of the Burning Mill would be the first true battle between the factions of Rhaenyra and Aegon II.
Daemon Targaryen led his men, collected from House Strong's banners, and flew with Caraxes to the Stone Hedge, which had been left undefended with the majority of Lord Humfrey's levies fighting the Blackwoods.
Raylon Rivers cursed Daemon, "Treacherous! Treasonous!"
Caraxes lowered his head and let out a menacing hiss, "On the contrary, bastard. It is you who are treasonous... Now, kneel or your Lord, and House burns."
It had been a few days since the war began in earnest. He first met with Elmo Tully's son, Oscar, who spoke for Grover.
Daemon had been less than accepting of the Lord's reluctance to fight for his Queen, so he worked together with the Blackwoods to bring to heel the only real threat to them in the Riverlands.
Samwell did well, goading the Brackens into action so he could sweep around and take their castle with ease.
Raylon Rivers looked at his defeated half-brother, Amos Bracken. Then he dismounted and kneeled before him, and so did the remaining Bracken host that survived the Burning Mill.
After leaving his men in charge to transport men, hostages, and supplies to Harrenhal, he returned to the castle swiftly on Caraxes' back but was also reluctant to return.
His unease at the cursed seat of Black Harren started to have an effect on his mind; he often more than once thought to leave and find somewhere else to stay as the host gathered or sleep in the camps outside the castle.
Visions and hallucinations plagued him and made him suspicious of those around him; he hardly ate and only drank what he had brought in.
And Alys Rivers, Ser Simon's bastard great-niece and supposed spawn of Lyonel, made his stay even more uncomfortable. Her words were like sorcery. She offered him herbs and tea to sleep, but he refused it... Until he didn't want to.
He dreamt of his brother, of his wife... Of his mother, a woman he knew little as she died when he was still young.
Before coming here, he didn't believe in the superstitions of the curse of Harrenhal.
Now, he doesn't quite know.
House Qoherys, House Harroway, House Strong. These families met ruin in strange and often violent ways, and he had sworn not to fall into it.
Caraxes groaned as it gorged on a fresh sheep; he stood upon the battlements while men and stonemasons worked on repairing what they could on the castle to make it ready for the Green army that had yet to leave King's Landing even after hearing he had taken the castle.
"My King." He turned and saw Ser Simon's first grandson approach, "A raven, from the Queen."
Taking it, he opened the letter, which stated that Jacaerys was successful in his mission; the Vale was on their side, with the exception that a rider be sent to protect it against Green forces and their allies.
Rhaenyra also asked him to report on his progress. "I require a quill and ink," he ordered, and the lad left quickly to retrieve what he asked for.
Otto Hightower had been busy in the last few days since the last council meeting.
He dispatched ravens to multiple lords, seeking their allegiance and enlisting sellswords to amass a formidable royal force in preparation for war. Raising the defenses of King's Landing so that it could repel Rhaenyra and her dragons should they come.
However, things have gone awry, and they cannot change them. With the Gullet closed, he wished to send Tyland to seek the battered Triarchy leadership in hopes they would break the blockade.
But Baelon's allies in House Redwyne are doing the same across the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, so success may be in vain. First the Triarchy would need to break the Redwyne fleet that patrols those waters, then deal with the Velaryon fleet.
In the Reach, House Tyrell declared its neutrality, though he feared it was simply biding its time to declare for Baelon. House Redwyne has done so, however, and has started blockading Oldtown, the same as House Roxton.
Houses Beesbury, Mullendore, Rowen, Costayne, and Tarly had also declared for Rhaenyra.
Then, there were no replies from the Greyjoys, Starks, or Arryns. "I need this one sent to Dorne," he told Maester Orwyle's assistant, who left quickly.
Aegon burst into his chamber with worry on his face, "What are we going to do? The Rogue Prince has all but united the Riverlords, and you sit here writing letters and sending ravens!"
"I am well aware, Aegon but we have more allies than what was in the Riverlands." He said to the King, who huffed in response. "If we send our army as it is, it will invite the Blacks to come with their dragons."
"Vhagar alone could kill them, could she not? And I have Sunfyre, Helaena has Dreamfyre."
"And Rhaenyra has Caraxes, Syrax, Meleys, Moondancer, and her three sons dragons. Word is that Daemon's daughter had taken Silverwing as a mount." He counted for his grandson, "I have no doubt Vhagar could take the smaller ones, but even ants can take down a scorpion."
Criston was beside the King in this matter, "The bitch Queen's supporters should pay for their reasons, Lord Hand."
Aegon beamed, "Exactly, we have Lords Caswell, Merryweather, and others in the dungeons. Let us make them kneel or dispatch them."
"If you simply go about beheading your vassals, it will bring wroth and blood upon you." Otto tried to reason with the King, but the lad was not yet accustomed to the power he wielded and thought he could do what he wished to win this war. "Your youth will be our downfall if all you think about is going head first into battle. First, we gather our allies, and only then do we set out to battle."
Aegon looked to want to argue against him, but he sighed in defeat, "Very well, Lord Hand... Just do something more than what is being done."
He shall, Otto thought to himself as Aegon left the room and for him to get back to his work.
Dorne looked beautiful at night.
Baelon liked the cool breeze that caressed his skin as he tightened the laces of his tunic, a gift from the Princess and he must admit the color of yellow wasn't too favorable with him.
He preferred red and black, even silver and red, but gold and yellow weren't his colors.
"The Princess is ready to receive you." He nodded to Ulrick Dayne.
Ser Ulrick Dayne was a tall man, olive-skinned with pale gold hair and purple eyes, Baelon had wondered if House Dayne had some descent of Valyrian blood but he was a little unsure to ask.
He had heard wondrous things about House Dayne, about their sword, Dawn, and the heroes who wielded it in battle.
The knight escorted him to a balcony where a minstrel was singing to Princess Aliandra and another woman. Her brother, Qyle, stood close to the door when he walked inside.
He was captivated by the ruling Princess's extraordinary beauty. She stood just slightly shorter than him, with skin the color of smooth, wet sand. Her flowing black hair resembled the dark scales of Archonei, and her eyes, brown as rich soil, held a captivating, almost teasing gaze.
Baelon bowed in respect, "Good evening, Princess."
"Your Grace, welcome." She greeted whilst rising from her seat, "You haven't met my sister and heir, Princess Coryanne."
Coryanne was a young woman with similar features to her sister and brother, except her hair was longer and she had an aquiline nose. "A pleasure, Princess." He greeted her, but the young woman looked away; he felt she didn't like him much.
"Leave us." Aliandra ordered, and all but the minstrel and Ser Ulrick left the chamber, "Please, eat, Baelon. I have no doubt you are hungry."
He was, indeed, taking a seat. He was joined by the other end and was unsure of what to say next. "Does the Dornish say anything before feasting?" he asked, feeling like a fool.
Aliandra laughed a little, "Not really... What would your family do?"
"My stepmother was devout of the Faith; she'd have said a prayer before feasting, but I never cared much for it." He picked up some poultry and nearly bit into it before stopping, feeling a little suspicious.
During the first conquest of Dorne, Aegon I had taken Sunspear and put Harlan Tyrell in charge, only to suffer a rebellion and would vanish with his garrison on the march to Hellholt.
Aliandra giggled, her smile fading as he set down his piece of chicken, "You believe I would poison you, Your Grace?"
"It wouldn't be out of the ordinary for us. Our families aren't fond of one another." Baelon eyed the woman with a little suspicion, and then he picked up the meat, "Valar Morghulis (all men must die)." Then took a bite.
Thankfully, he didn't die right away and chose to eat more as Aliandra sat back, throwing a grape into her mouth and drinking wine from her cup.
"Poison would not benefit me, Baelon. Nor would it benefit what I dain to do." his eyes widened when she said this, wiping his mouth and sitting straight in his seat.
"Does that mean you will aid me in my cause?"
Aliandra frowned and looked at him, "Why rush to fight? You could simply allow your opposition to tire themselves out and then take the glory, hell, the smallfolk, and whatever Lords who survive would relish in you claiming the throne."
Baelon wondered this himself when he fled King's Landing.
It would be easier, far more, than going into battle and facing Vhagar, Meleys, or Caraxes, who are larger and more fearsome than Archonei.
But then, how would the realm see him? He'd be the man who ran away and a craven opportunist, coming in to pick the bones of a broken kingdom.
He is already known as a kingslayer, a man who is falsely rumored to have killed his own father for the crown. He knows many won't believe such a lie, but the great few who hear it will back whatever side he opposes.
And then there are the dragons; how many would die before the war was done? It was the dragons who brought the realm into line. Only Archonei isn't enough to keep them united if he sits out.
Then again, with so many riding dragons, they may all die out by the end anyway.
"What, Princess, could I do to get your support?" he asked, and she looked at him for a long moment. "Any terms, something to make you risk your men to fight for me, anything." He didn't wish to show his entire hand; it could have been seen as an act of desperation.
The plan was to start offering terms to sweeten their alliance and then offer her the opportunity to unite their houses in marriage.
"Anything, you say?" Aliandra leaned forward, "I have ambitions of my own, and I have come to realize it would do my people well to unite with dragonlords and dragons after losing not one, not two, but three wars in attempting to expand."
Aliandra rose from her chair and walked towards him. She leaned down and placed a hand on his heart. "If you want true fire, My King, then you must marry the sun."
It took a moment before Baelon's eyes widened at the Princess's suggestion. Surely, he had planned to offer his hand in any terms to solidify their alliance, but that the Princess acted before himself was both a shock and a pleasant surprise.
He appreciated such forthright action in any woman, it made him smile as he took her hand in his and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckle. "I would be honored, Princess." His words were confident and she smiled with him.
The following day, an official announcement was made regarding the marriage between Baelon Targaryen and Aliandra Martell. During their conversation, Aliandra profoundly impacted Baelon, causing him to reassess his plan to take the Iron Throne.
Apart from the blockades on the Narrow Sea and Oldtown, he's decided to let Rhaenyra and Aegon deal blows to one another, and when the time was truly ripe, he would march up from the Boneway and Prince's Pass to take the whole of Westeros.