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The scorching Dornish sun beat down as Sunspear's distinctive silhouette emerged on the horizon. The three Winding Walls that protected the ancient seat of House Martell rose like giant serpents from the sands, their golden sandstone gleaming in the harsh daylight. The Spear Tower and the Tower of the Sun pierced the cloudless blue sky, their shadows stretching across the desert landscape.
Princess Aliandra Martell sat astride her sand steed, her lightweight silk dress in orange and red rippling in the hot breeze. Her dark hair was bound in a practical braid, adorned with golden threads that caught the sunlight. Despite the heat, she wore the traditional Dornish riding clothes: flowing pants beneath her dress, designed for both modesty and comfort in the saddle. Gold bangles clinked at her wrists, and a delicate coronet of copper suns rested on her brow.
Beside her, her younger brother Qyle shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. At fifteen, he was already showing signs of the Martell beauty, with his olive skin and dark, questioning eyes. He wore a sleeveless yellow silk tunic embroidered with copper suns, and loose-fitting breeches of the lightest linen. A copper arm ring in the shape of a snake wrapped around his upper arm, marking him as a prince of Dorne.
"Do you think he's already here?" Qyle asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
Aliandra's jaw tightened. The memory of her father's reaction to her question about Lykard's exile flashed through her mind. She had been younger then, barely four-and-ten, when she'd gathered the courage to ask. Prince Qoren's face had transformed from its usual warmth to something she'd never seen before – a mask of barely contained fury and... was it fear? "Never ask me that question again, Aliandra. Never."
"We'll find out soon enough," she replied to Qyle, spurring her horse forward.
Their guards, dressed in the lightweight armor of Dorne – scaled copper breastplates over silk shirts, loose pants tucked into boots, and flowing cloaks of orange silk – followed close behind. Their spears caught the sunlight as they rode through the Shadow City, the maze-like settlement that surrounded Sunspear.
The streets were alive with activity despite the afternoon heat. Merchants in rainbow-colored robes called out their wares from beneath striped awnings. Children with skin darkened by the sun darted between market stalls, their laughter echoing off the sandstone walls. Women carried clay pots balanced on their heads, their faces protected from the sun by delicate veils of flowing silk in every shade imaginable.
"Princess Aliandra!" voices called out as she passed. "The Sun of Dorne!"
The common folk's greetings warmed her heart, but today they couldn't dispel the unease that had settled in her stomach. Nine years. Nine years since Lykard had been sent away, and now he was returning. What had changed? Why now?
The first of the Winding Walls loomed before them. They passed through the gate in the first wall, then the second, and finally approached the third and highest wall that protected Sunspear proper.
At the top of the gates, guards in polished copper armor stood at attention. Their spears were topped with the sun-and-spear of House Martell, the banners above them snapping in the hot wind that blew in from the Sea of Dorne.
"Open the gates!" Aliandra commanded, her voice carrying the authority of the heir to Dorne.
"Princess," one of the guards called down, "welcome home."
"Has Prince Lykard arrived?" she asked directly, watching their reactions carefully.
The guards exchanged confused looks. "My princess," one began carefully, "Prince Lykard is..."
"Exiled?" Aliandra finished for him. "Not anymore. He should be arriving today." She noted how the guards shifted uncomfortably at this news, their hands tightening almost imperceptibly on their spears.
The great gates groaned open, and Aliandra led her party into the castle proper. The courtyard was a haven of shade and coolness compared to the desert beyond the walls. Fountains played in every corner, their spray creating a fine mist that helped combat the heat. Servants moved purposefully across the yard, many carrying implements for the evening meal or fresh linens for the chambers.
Despite the dust of travel that clung to her skin and clothes, Aliandra didn't head for her chambers to refresh herself. Instead, she dismounted and handed her reins to a waiting stable boy.
"Qyle," she said, turning to her younger brother, "go and clean up. I need to speak with Father and Mother."
"But Aliandra—"
"Now, Qyle," she said, her tone brooking no argument.
As she walked through the familiar halls of Sunspear, her sandals silent on the intricate mosaic floors, Aliandra's mind raced. She passed beneath arched windows where gauzy curtains stirred in the breeze.
Her mother would be in the family solar at this hour, she knew, and her father would likely be there as well, enjoying the relative cool of the afternoon. The solar was located in the Tower of the Sun, its windows offering views of both the city and the sea beyond.
As she climbed the tower steps, Aliandra's unease grew. Something about Lykard's return felt wrong. Her father, Qoren Martell, was not a man given to rash decisions or unnecessary cruelty. To exile his own son... whatever Lykard had done must have been terrible indeed.
And now he was returning, and somehow, Aliandra knew in her bones that this homecoming would change everything. The question was: would it be for better or worse?
She reached the solar door, pausing for a moment to straighten her travel-stained clothes and take a deep breath. Then she knocked, waiting for her parents' response before she would enter and deliver the news that their exiled son was returning to Sunspear.
"Enter," came her mother's commanding voice from within.
Aliandra pushed open the ornate double doors, their surfaces inlaid with copper and mother-of-pearl in intricate patterns of suns and spears. The solar was a testament to Dornish luxury and practicality combined. High, vaulted ceilings allowed the hot air to rise, while strategically placed windows created cooling cross-breezes. Delicate silk curtains in shades of orange, yellow, and deep red filtered the harsh sunlight, casting the room in a warm, ethereal glow.
The walls were adorned with precious tapestries depicting the history of Dorne – Nymeria burning her ten thousand ships, the marriage of Mors Martell and Nymeria, and the unification of Dorne under their rule.
Princess Loreza Martell, her mother, reclined on a low couch of carved cedarwood, cushioned with silk pillows in rich jewel tones. Her dress was deep purple silk, cut in the revealing Dornish style but with an elegance that spoke of her status. Around her shoulders, Wisdom, her white snake, was coiled languidly. The creature's scales gleamed like freshly polished pearls, its black eyes regarding Aliandra with an unsettling intelligence.
Prince Qoren sat at his desk near the largest window, which offered a commanding view of the Shadow City and the sea beyond. Papers were scattered across its surface, and a half-empty glass of Dornish red sat near his right hand.
"You've returned earlier than expected," her mother observed, one hand absently stroking Wisdom's scales. The snake flicked its tongue, tasting the air. "And without taking time to make yourself presentable, I see."
"Mother, Father," Aliandra began, stepping further into the room. Her sandals sank into the thick Myrish carpets that covered the floor. "I have news that couldn't wait."
Her father looked up from his papers, his dark eyes kind but concerned. Unlike her mother's sharp features, Qoren's face was softer, though no less regal. He wore a loose robe of golden silk, embroidered with copper thread, and a simple circlet of copper and gold rested on his brow.
"What news could be so urgent that you come to us covered in the desert's dust?" Loreza asked, her voice carrying that familiar edge that could cut deeper than any blade.
Aliandra took a deep breath, her eyes moving between her parents. "Lykard is returning to Sunspear. Today."
The change in the room was immediate and profound. Wisdom lifted his head, sensing the sudden tension. Her father's hand knocked over his wine glass, the red liquid spreading across his papers like blood. Her mother sat up straight, all languid grace gone in an instant.
"What did you say?" Loreza's voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the venom of her pet snake.
"He sent word ahead," Aliandra continued, standing her ground. "His ship should be arriving in the harbor today."
Qoren stood slowly from his desk, his face having gone several shades paler. "Who gave him permission to return?"
"The message didn't say. Only that he was coming home."
Loreza rose in one fluid motion, Wisdom adjusting his position to maintain his grip around her shoulders. "Home?" she spat the word like a curse. "This hasn't been his home since he—" She cut herself off abruptly, exchanging a meaningful look with her husband.
"Since he what, Mother?" Aliandra pressed, seizing the opportunity. "What did my brother do that was so terrible you cast him out? That you've forbidden us even to speak of it?"
"Enough!" Qoren's voice cracked like thunder, startling even Wisdom. It was rare to hear him raise his voice. "Some secrets must remain buried, Aliandra. For the good of all."
"But he's returning whether we want him to or not," Aliandra argued. "Don't we deserve to know what we're facing? What he did?"
Her mother moved across the room like a snake striking, coming to stand before Aliandra. Wisdom's head swayed near Aliandra's face, black eyes unblinking. "What you deserve, daughter, is to trust that your father and I made the only decision we could. That we did what was necessary to protect Dorne."
"He's still your son," Aliandra pressed, watching her parents' reactions carefully. "And my brother, even if I barely remember what it was like when he lived here. Don't we deserve to know what kind of man is returning to Sunspear?"
"Your brother?" Loreza's laugh was as dry as the desert winds. "The brother you've barely mentioned in nine years? Now suddenly you care about family bonds?"
Aliandra lifted her chin defiantly. "I care about protecting our family. How can I do that if I don't know what threatens it?"
"You protect it by trusting us," Qoren said, his voice gentler than his wife's but no less firm. He moved away from his wine-stained papers to stand near the window. "Some knowledge is a poison, Aliandra. More dangerous than any snake's venom."
At that moment, little Princess Lorella burst into the solar, her black curls bouncing wild and free. Like her mother, she wore purple silk, though hers was decorated with tiny copper snakes. In her arms, she cradled a small orange sand snake, its scales gleaming like burnished copper.
"Mother, Father, look what I found in the garden!" the eight-year-old exclaimed, then noticed the tension in the room. Her smile faltered. "What's wrong?"
Loreza's expression softened slightly at the sight of her youngest child. Wisdom's head turned toward Lorella, tongue flicking in greeting. The little princess had inherited her mother's love for snakes, though she was only allowed to handle the non-venomous varieties.
"Nothing's wrong, sweet one," Qoren said, though his eyes betrayed his worry. "But you should take your new friend back to the garden. It belongs there."
"But Father—"
"Now, Lorella," Loreza commanded, her tone brooking no argument.
As Lorella reluctantly turned to leave, Aliandra caught her arm gently. "You're about to meet someone new, little sister. Someone from our family."
"Aliandra!" her mother hissed, Wisdom mirroring her agitation.
"She deserves to know she has another brother," Aliandra challenged. "Or would you have her learn it from whispers and rumors?"
"A brother?" Lorella's eyes widened with excitement. "Like Qyle?"
"Enough!" Qoren's voice carried the rare edge of command. "Lorella, return your snake to the garden. Aliandra, you forget yourself."
"Do I?" Aliandra turned to face her father. "Or do you forget that Lykard's actions, whatever they were, affect all of us? Lorella has grown up without knowing her own brother exists. Qyle barely remembers him. And I..." she paused, gathering her thoughts. "I remember enough to know something changed him in the years before his exile. He became... different."
"Different how?" Lorella asked innocently, still lingering in the doorway.
Loreza moved swiftly, ushering her youngest daughter out of the solar. When she returned, her face was a mask of controlled fury. "You will not speak of such things in front of her. She is too young to understand."
"I was too young to understand when you exiled him," Aliandra countered. "That didn't stop it from happening. That didn't stop the whispers, the rumors, the looks of pity from the nobles. 'Poor Princess Aliandra, her brother sent away in shame.'"
"You think we wanted that?" Qoren's voice cracked with emotion. "You think we wanted to send our son away? To split our family apart?"
"Then why did you?" Aliandra demanded. "What could possibly have been so terrible?"
Before either parent could respond, the guard's knock interrupted them, bringing news of Lykard's ship, saying his ship had finally arrived.
"We should greet him at the harbor," Aliandra said finally, breaking the silence.
"No," Qoren replied, his voice heavy with authority. "He will come to us. Here. Under our terms." He turned to the guard. "Send word that Prince Lykard is to come directly to the solar. Alone."
As the guard bowed and left, Loreza's hand went to Wisdom's head, stroking it absently. "Nine years," she murmured. "Nine years of peace, and now..."
"Now what, Mother?" Aliandra pressed. "What are you so afraid he'll do?"
"Not afraid," Loreza corrected, her voice sharp again. "Prepared. Remember this, Aliandra – a snake may shed its skin, but its nature remains unchanged." she said sharply, before turning to look at Lorella and the new snake she was hugging. "And you, return that snake back to where it belongs."
Lorella clutched her orange snake closer to her chest. "But look how beautiful she is! She hasn't bitten anyone, I promise."
"That's not the point," Loreza said sharply, while Wisdom's head swayed above her shoulder. "A princess must show discipline, not play with garden snakes."
"But Mother," Lorella's eyes darted meaningfully to Wisdom, "you have one."
Qoren coughed to hide his amusement, while Aliandra pressed her lips together to suppress a smile.
"That is entirely different," Loreza replied, her voice cooling further. "Wisdom is a trained companion, not a wild creature from the garden."
Qoren raised his hand, making a subtle gesture to the Captain of the Guards who stood near the door. "Captain Tirian, please escort Princess Lorella to her chambers. And ensure her... friend... is returned to the garden where it belongs."
"But Father! I want to meet Lykard!" Lorella protested, her lower lip trembling slightly.
Aliandra knelt before her little sister, ignoring her mother's disapproving glance at the dust this scattered on the expensive carpet. "Sweet one, you'll meet him later, I promise. But first, let's do as Father says."
Lorella sighed dramatically, then made a gesture with her free hand – the same subtle movement her father had just used. It was such a perfect mimicry that Qoren's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
As Captain Tarian led Lorella out, Qyle entered, his hair still damp from bathing. He wore a fresh tunic of pale yellow silk with copper embroidery, and the scent of citrus oils surrounded him.
"You could have taken time to make yourself presentable as well," Loreza said to Aliandra, eyeing her travel-stained clothes with disapproval.
"There wasn't time," Aliandra replied, standing her ground. "And now it's too late."
They waited in tense silence. Qyle paced near the windows, while their father stood still as stone behind his desk. Their mother remained on her couch, Wisdom's white coils contrasting sharply with her purple silk dress.
The first sign of Lykard's arrival was a metallic sound from the corridor – a sharp, distinct noise that made everyone in the solar stiffen. Then the door opened, and after nine years of exile, Lykard Martell stepped into the room.
He wore armor of blackened steel with red enamel accents, design motifs of flames and serpents worked into the metal. His helmet, adorned with wing-like protrusions, was tucked under his left arm. In his right hand, he held a Fang Tian spear, its blade gleaming dangerously in the filtered sunlight.
Most striking were the two red snakes coiled around his shoulders – desert vipers, their scales the color of fresh blood, their eyes like tiny garnets. Unlike Wisdom's languid pose, these serpents seemed alert, their tongues flicking rapidly to taste the air.
But it was Lykard's smile that caught Aliandra's attention – a curve of his lips that managed to be both charming and chilling at once. His eyes, the same dark shade as her own, sparkled with intelligence and something else... something that made her think of a snake watching its prey.
"Mother," he said smoothly, his voice carrying the cultured accent of someone who had traveled far. "Father. Siblings. How kind of you all to gather for my homecoming."
No one moved. Even Wisdom had gone still, his white head raised as if in challenge to the red vipers.
"Those creatures are venomous," Loreza said, nodding to the snakes on his shoulders.
Lykard's smile widened. "As is yours, Mother. Though I doubt Wisdom's venom is as quick as my friends here. They're a specially bred variety from Yi Ti. One bite, and the heart stops before you can take three steps."
"An interesting choice of companions for a peaceful return home," Qoren observed, his voice carefully neutral.
"Peace?" Lykard laughed, and the sound was like music – beautiful but somehow wrong, like a favorite song played in a minor key. "Is that what we're calling this gathering? With guards posted in every corridor and archers on the tower roof?"
Aliandra's eyes widened slightly. She hadn't known about the archers.
"You can hardly blame us for taking precautions," she said, meeting her brother's gaze directly. "We haven't seen you in nine years, and you arrive unannounced."
"Ah, sister," Lykard turned that unsettling smile on her. "Still wearing dust and sweat like badges of honor, I see. Some things never change." He moved further into the room, his armor making surprisingly little noise. "Though many things have. I hear I have a new sister? Little Lorella?"
"Who you will not approach without our permission," Loreza said, steel in her voice.
"Such hostility," Lykard sighed, though his eyes danced with amusement. "And here I was, hoping for a warmer welcome from my beloved family." He paused, then added with a hint of mockery, "Though I suppose I should be grateful you're receiving me at all, given the circumstances of my... departure."
Qyle, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. "Brother, why have you returned?"
"Can't a man simply miss his home?" Lykard asked, spreading his arms wide. The red snakes adjusted their position with fluid grace. "His family? The beauty of Sunspear?"
"Not when that man was exiled," Qoren said firmly.
"Ah yes, my exile," Lykard's smile never wavered. "Perhaps it's time we discussed that particular decision, Father. Unless you'd prefer to keep that secret buried, along with all the others?" Loreza glared at her son as Lykard turned to face his sister again.
"Dear sister," Lykard's eyes swept over Aliandra appraisingly, "even covered in dust and road-wear, you've grown into quite the beauty. The songs they sing of you in the Free Cities don't do you justice."
"Save your flattery," Aliandra replied, though she inclined her head slightly. "Why are you really here, Lykard?"
"Can't a brother compliment his sister without ulterior motives?"
"You've never done anything without ulterior motives."
Lykard laughed, a sound that somehow managed to be both warm and cold at once. One of his red vipers turned its head toward her, tongue flicking. "You wound me, sister. But thank you for at least acknowledging the compliment. Tell me, are you curious where I've been these past nine years?"
"I am," she admitted, ignoring her mother's sharp look.
"Oh, I've been everywhere," Lykard said, moving to trace his fingers along the spines of books on a nearby shelf. "The Free Cities, the Summer Isles, even as far as Yi Ti. It's remarkable how welcoming strangers can be when your own family casts you out." His smile remained, but his eyes hardened. "I found more kindness on foreign doorsteps than I ever did on the steps of Sunspear after that day."
"You brought that upon yourself," Loreza snapped, Wisdom raising his head higher.
"Did I, Mother? Or did I simply refuse to play the role you and Father had chosen for me?" Lykard turned to face them all, his red vipers seeming to glow in the filtered sunlight. "Should we tell Aliandra and Qyle what really happened? Should we tell them why their beloved brother was sent away in the dead of night like a common criminal?"
"Enough!" Qoren's voice cracked like thunder. "That matter is settled and will remain so."
"Is it settled, Father?" Lykard's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Is anything ever truly settled when it's buried in lies and silence?"
"Brother," Aliandra stepped forward, "if you've returned to stir up old wounds—"
"Old wounds?" Lykard interrupted, his laugh now entirely devoid of warmth. "Dear sister, these wounds have never healed. They've merely festered, hidden beneath pretty silks and political smiles." His eyes locked onto their father. "Isn't that right, Father? Shall we discuss how well secrets keep in Sunspear?"
"You walk a dangerous path, son," Qoren warned after a moment of silence.
"I've walked nothing but dangerous paths since you forced me onto them," Lykard retorted, though his smile never faltered. "It's remarkable what a man can learn when he has nothing left to lose. When his own family strips him of everything except his wits and his will to survive."
"And yet here you stand," Loreza observed coldly, "very much alive and clearly prospering. Your exile doesn't seem to have brought you much hardship."
"No, Mother, it hasn't," Lykard agreed, his tone suddenly light again, though his eyes remained hard. "I've learned so much in my travels. Made so many interesting... friends." He emphasized the last word in a way that made Aliandra's skin crawl. "Would you like to hear about them? About the things I've learned? About the secrets I've gathered like precious gems?"
"If you've come to make threats—" Qoren began.
"Threats?" Lykard's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "I'm merely trying to have a conversation with my family. To share stories of my travels, as any dutiful son would upon returning home." His smile widened. "Though I suppose some stories might be more interesting than others. Some might even be... explosive."
"What do you mean by 'explosive,' brother?" Aliandra asked, her hand unconsciously moving to the dagger at her hip.
Lykard's smile grew wider, his red vipers shifting on his shoulders. "Tell me, has anyone been following the fascinating developments in King's Landing? The drama of our dragon-riding neighbors?"
Qoren frowned. "The politics of the Seven Kingdoms rarely concern Dorne."
"Is that so?" Lykard leaned against a pillar. "How very... isolationist of you, Father. Though I suppose that's always been your way – keeping Dorne separate, safe, uninvolved."
Aliandra noticed her mother's hand had stilled on Wisdom's scales, though her face remained carefully neutral. There was something in her posture that suggested she knew more than she was letting on.
"Why should we care what the dragons are doing?" Aliandra demanded. "Dorne has remained independent for centuries."
Lykard's expression shifted then, his easy smile transforming into something colder, more predatory. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper that seemed to freeze the very air in the solar. "Because, dear sister, Laenor Velaryon and his dragon Seasmoke recently suffered a most... unfortunate accident."
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the snakes seemed to still.
"What kind of accident?" Qyle asked, speaking for the first time since Lykard's arrival.
"The burning kind," Lykard replied, examining his gauntlet with casual interest. "Ironic, isn't it? A dragon and its rider, consumed by flames. Who would have thought they could burn just like everyone else?"
Aliandra felt her heart plummet like a stone dropped from the Spear Tower. "Who..." she started, then swallowed hard. "Who is responsible for this?"
Lykard's only response was that terrible smile, but his meaning was clear as crystal.
"By all the gods," Aliandra breathed, her mind racing with implications. "The Targaryens... the Velaryons... they'll want blood for this. They won't stop until..."
"Until House Martell is destroyed?" Lykard finished for her. "That was already their plan, sweet sister. I merely acted first."
"What are you talking about?" Qoren demanded, his calm facade finally cracking.
"Prince Aenar Targaryen," Lykard said simply, watching Aliandra's face carefully.
The name struck a chord in Aliandra's memory, like a half-remembered dream, but she couldn't place why. She saw her mother's hand tighten on Wisdom's scales, saw the look that passed between her parents.
"You claim you did this to protect us," Qoren said, "yet you bring the wrath of two great houses down upon Dorne."
"Better their wrath than their plans," Lykard shot back. "Better open war than what they intended. At least now we can fight back. At least now we have a chance."
"A chance at what?" Aliandra demanded.
"At survival," Lykard said simply. "You see, sister, while our parents have been playing at peace, our enemies have been planning our destruction. Laenor was just the first move in a very long game. A game I intend to win."
"You speak of protection," Aliandra said carefully, "but you bring death to our doorstep."
"Death was already here, sister," Lykard replied. "I've merely brought it into the light where we can see it. Where we can fight it." He turned to their parents.
"Who is Aenar Targaryen?" Qyle asked, his voice cutting through the tension. "I've never heard of him."
Loreza's fingers traced patterns on Wisdom's scales as she answered, her voice tight with disgust. "Daemon Targaryen's only son. His mother was some Stark whore."
"Why are we discussing him?" Aliandra demanded, though something about the name made her skin prickle with unease.
Lykard's smile turned grim. "Because, dear sister, this particular dragon prince has been planning Sunspear's destruction since before I killed his precious friend Laenor. Now?" He gave a dark laugh. "Now he has the perfect excuse to burn every man, woman, and child in Dorne."
"Including little Lorella?" Qyle asked, his face paling.
"Especially the children," Lykard confirmed, his red vipers swaying hypnotically. "Aenar Targaryen doesn't believe in leaving enemies to grow up seeking revenge."
Aliandra's head throbbed suddenly, and an image flashed through her mind – a face she knew she should remember but couldn't quite grasp. Dark curly hair, so unlike typical Targaryen coloring, but those eyes... those haunting purple eyes. The memory slipped away like water through her fingers.
"This makes no sense," Qoren said, pacing the length of the solar. "Why would a prince who has never set foot in Dorne harbor such hatred for us? What could we possibly have done to earn such enmity?"
Lykard's expression shifted subtly, something knowing and dangerous dancing in his eyes. "Prince Aenar desires revenge on ghosts. A man who is still chasing after something that will never be his, someone who refuses to move on, and instead decides to use his rage and guilt on people that never did anything wrong to him before a week ago."
"You're speaking in riddles," Aliandra snapped.
"Am I?" Lykard's smile widened. "You want to know why I got involved in this? Well, Prince Aenar was already coming for our heads. What I did was just take out someone who would not have thought twice about bathing our homes in fire."
"How are you so sure about this?" Aliandra asked, not understanding why her brother was speaking as if he personally knew this Aenar Targaryen.
"Because I know what kind of men we are. House Targaryen thinks that having dragons gives them the right to do whatever they want. I made the plan to get one of them killed, to send a clear message. Dragons can be killed, and we don't need other dragons to do that. What happened with Rhaenys Targaryen the First can happen again but in a different way."
"Enough!" Loreza stood abruptly, Wisdom rearing up beside her. "Guards! Escort Prince Lykard to his chambers. He needs rest after his long journey."
The guards moved forward hesitantly, but Lykard's vipers turned toward them, hoods flaring, their hisses filling the room with menace. The guards halted, hands on their weapons but clearly uncertain.
"No need for that, Mother," Lykard said pleasantly, though his eyes remained cold. "I can see myself out. After all, I know these halls better than anyone – even the parts you don't want anyone to know about." He bowed with exaggerated courtesy. "We'll speak again soon, I'm sure. There's so much more to discuss... so many secrets yet to share."
As he turned to leave, his red vipers still watching the guards, he paused at the door. "Oh, and sister?" He looked back at Aliandra. "Try to remember your dreams tonight. You might find they're more memory than fantasy."
Aliandra glared at her brother's back, how did he know about her dragons. She could not make sense of it, but right now, they needed to deal with what Lykard just told them. A War was coming to Dorne, and not just any war, the rage of House Targaryen and House Velayron.
How can I ever defend my family and my people from this? Aliandra thought, knowing this was not something she could talk her way out of it.
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