Sunspear was almost always bright and sunny.
Today, however, was an exception. Dark, heavy clouds blocked the sunlight, and the salty sea breeze couldn't dispel the oppressive heat that seemed almost suffocating.
Princess Arianne was soaking in the cool waters of a spring, a glass of red wine in one hand and a copy of The Ten Thousand Ships in the other. Yet, her gaze was distant and unfocused; clearly, her mind wasn't on the book.
Light footsteps pulled her from her reverie, and she turned to see a blonde, green-eyed young woman approaching.
"Tyene!" Princess Arianne's face lit up as she leapt from the water, arms open in greeting.
Tyene Sand was one of Prince Oberyn's many daughters, and among them, she was closest to Arianne. She had a sweet, almost innocent appearance, as fresh as summer strawberries. But for those who knew Tyene, her purity and sweetness were only a mask, hiding a rebellious and dangerous spirit. Her skills in poisons were easily as formidable as her father's.
"Princess," Tyene smiled, curtsied, and hugged the wet, naked Arianne.
Arianne kissed her childhood friend and playfully pinched her cheek. "Where have you been? Why has it taken you so long to come and see me?"
"I was at sea. Only after returning did I hear about your... situation. But we'll talk about that later. Now hurry and dress; the Prince wants to see you."
"My father? Hmph, he finally remembers he has a daughter? I thought he'd forgotten I existed." Princess Arianne reluctantly allowed Tyene to pull her from the pool.
After drying herself, she deliberately selected the most revealing silk dress she could find, but Tyene quickly took it away. "You can't keep acting like this, Princess. Remember, sweetness is a woman's best armor."
With that, Tyene handed Arianne a simple ivory robe and adorned her with only a single pendant—a seven-pointed star symbolizing the Faith of the Seven.
"So, you think I should kneel at my father's feet and beg his forgiveness?" Arianne muttered but still followed her cousin's advice.
Once ready, Arianne made her way to the Water Gardens.
The flowers filled the air with a sweet fragrance, but she paid them no mind. Following a guard, she soon arrived at a pavilion, where she was surprised to see her uncle, Prince Oberyn, standing outside, gazing pensively at a blood orange tree in the garden.
When Arianne was younger, she and her cousins had loved using flails to knock the oranges from the trees, but at some point, her father had forbidden them from entering the Water Gardens without permission. He'd claimed the place as his own, turning it into his private fortress—or perhaps a prison?
Snapping herself out of her thoughts, Arianne's attention fell on her father, Prince Doran, who sat in the pavilion, studying a cyvasse board intently. The ruler of Dorne looked pale and swollen, his legs crippled by gout and propped up on a cushioned footstool. His hands, swollen and red, held a carved onyx piece that trembled slightly despite his best efforts to control it.
Seeing her father suffering so visibly, Arianne felt a pang of sorrow. Her resentment softened.
"Father."
Prince Doran glanced up, his gaze settling steadily on his daughter. Oberyn stepped forward, positioning himself beside his niece, and spoke first:
"We've made a mess of things, brother. But don't worry—I'll find a way to make this right."
"It's not Uncle's fault," Arianne interjected. "My recklessness is what brought harm to Dorne."
Prince Doran's voice, frail and papery, seemed almost fragile. "Tell me, Arianne—why? Why did you start a war?"
Arianne's anger, buried only moments ago, flared up again. She looked her father directly in the eye and declared, "For honor!"
Doran laughed softly. "Do you know what honor is?"
"They crossed into Dorne! Wasn't it honorable to lead a counterattack?"
"Because of this 'honor' of yours, thousands of Dornishmen have died. Starfall and Skyreach no longer answer to us. And your uncle is under suspicion for poisoning the Hand of the King. Tell me, Arianne—is this the honor you wanted?"
Arianne opened her mouth, hesitating briefly, but ultimately replied, "If we had won..."
"You would have won nothing," Doran cut her off coldly. "In the Game of Thrones, the first to lose is always the fool who gambles everything on unchecked ambition. Thanks to your impulsiveness, we're now a wounded beast. The blood from our wounds will attract vultures, eager to pick us apart."
Arianne started to retort, but Oberyn intervened first:
"Don't worry, brother. I'll ensure those vultures find no scraps. When I reach King's Landing, I'll clear my name at any cost."
He paused, recalling the dying words of that old man, and added, "No matter the cost."
Doran sighed, massaging his temples in weary resignation. After a long pause, he spoke again:
"Oberyn, do you remember our goal?"
"Of course," Oberyn replied, each word deliberate. "We'll avenge Elia and her children."
"Elia... Elia..." Doran whispered her name, his face twisted with grief. "It's been so many years, and yet, each night I still see her face, bloodied and broken. In my nightmares, I hear her and her children crying out... Oberyn, my brother, I can't bear the thought of adding your face to theirs."
"Trust me, brother," Oberyn tried to smile, brushing off the gravity. "Many have tried to kill me, and they're the ones who've ended up meeting the Stranger."
"It's not the same. This time, brother, your spear and poisons may not protect you."
"Believe me, brother, I'm not relying solely on those."
Doran held his brother's gaze for a long moment before he looked away, his trembling fingers clenching the dragon-shaped cyvasse piece tightly.
"Oberyn, you know I've waited so long for this, planned so meticulously. We're so close now. Truly close—the girl has already come of age..."
Arianne looked puzzled, unable to contain her curiosity. "What are you planning, father?"
"Forgive me, Arianne, but I can't tell you," Doran replied with a sigh. "I know you too well. You'd share any secret with Tyene the moment you went to bed. Tyene would then tell Obara, and Obara, after too much wine, would blurt it out to anyone who'd listen. I can't take that risk. House Martell can't afford risks."
Arianne opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure how to respond.
"Brother, please trust me this time," Oberyn said with intense conviction. "I'll clear my name, and I won't disrupt your plans. Elia will be avenged."
Doran hesitated, then finally sighed. "Very well."
Then he turned to his daughter, his gaze a mix of disappointment and resignation. "Arianne, you'll accompany your uncle to King's Landing. This time, you're to follow his orders in all things. No more acting on your own."
Arianne held her father's gaze, then finally lowered her head, perhaps remembering her cousin's earlier advice. "Yes, Father."
Only then did Doran wave them away, signaling the conversation was over.
Silence returned to the garden.
The clouds grew thicker, and the wind picked up, finally tearing through the sweltering stillness. Heavy rain began to pour down in torrents.
"Prince! Prince! Please come inside!"
But Doran ignored the calls of his servants. He simply stood, gazing quietly at the garden as the storm ravaged it.
Under the relentless wind and rain, countless blood oranges, just on the cusp of ripening, fell to the ground, bursting open upon impact and left to rot.
(End of Chapter)