Rhaella and Elia walked along the shore, Willem accompanying them.
The sea breeze lifted Rhaella's long silver hair, as though the terrifying storm from a year ago had been nothing more than an illusion.
For the past few months, the waters around Dragonstone had been calm and peaceful, which put her in a far better mood.
Especially now that she no longer had to live alongside Aerys. Free of that constant mental pressure, Rhaella had been resting well, and she looked radiant.
"Robert has taken his entire army to the Shieldlands to put down the Greyjoy rebellion," Elia said, linking arms with her, her voice filled with anticipation.
"By the time he finishes the war, we should already be in Gohor, shouldn't we?"
Viserys had not allowed Oberyn to tell Rhaella about the danger he might face from a Braavosi–Pentoshi coalition.
Even when Davos took the fleet away, he only said it was being sold to the Three Daughters.
All they knew was that Viserys had essentially subdued every faction in Gohor, and that Gohor was now firmly Targaryen land.
"Sigh… I really am an unworthy mother," Rhaella said softly, gazing at the distant black sails that looked no larger than a thumb. "He's still so young. He shouldn't have had to leave his mother's side."
There was regret in her tone, but also a trace of pride.
Viserys had been conceived only after Aerys swore before the gods that he would remain forever loyal to Rhaella.
She believed that perhaps this was the gods' blessing.
As if sensing the same thought, the two women looked together toward the castle that rose like a nest of coiling dragons.
It was as if, after leaving the eastern continent, the Targaryen ancestors had never once returned.
Once they left this place, who knew when they would ever come back?
Still, nothing was more important than a family living together.
Just as the two of them turned to head back, a maid suddenly came running from the direction of the harbor.
It was Lyanna's maid, Wylla.
Beside her ran a young man, both of them wearing expressions of overwhelming joy.
"Your Grace! Your Grace!"
Wylla handed a letter to Rhaella. The young man beside her was Clement.
"Your Grace," Clement said excitedly, "King Viserys has conquered Gohor! And Gohor now has a fleet protecting it. No one can defeat us!"
A fleet?
Rhaella had studied maps of Essos and its political divisions countless times.
For a fleet to enter the Rhoyne, it had to pass through Volantis.
And Volantis would never allow the fleets of other powers to pass through its territory.
Now that everything had been settled, Clement explained in detail how Viserys had brought the fleet through Volantis, and how he had used that fleet to cut off the enemy's supply lines.
As she listened, Rhaella suddenly broke down in tears, sobbing uncontrollably.
Others praised her son's brilliance and valor, but only a mother truly understood how much danger he had faced.
"Your Grace? Your Grace?" Clement asked anxiously, thinking he might have said something wrong.
William, standing nearby, was also shaken by the story.
First cutting off the supplies of eighty thousand troops. Then using banners resembling the Golden Company to deceive the enemy.
And finally dividing them, turning wolf against tiger, reducing tens of thousands of Braavosi soldiers into prisoners.
Such a strategy was almost beyond imagination.
With Elia's gentle comfort, Rhaella finally regained her composure. She turned to Willem and said,
"Ser Willem, go and inspect the ships again. At the latest, the day after tomorrow, we sail for Gohor."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Rhaella took a deep breath to steady herself. She decided to inform Mace, the Pufffish, and Prince Doran of what Viserys had achieved in Gohor.
The Citadel would be told as well.
Viserys had not only secured his footing in Gohor, he now also controlled access to the port of Pentos.
It was like a sword hanging over Robert's head.
Those who were considering pledging themselves to the new king would have to think very carefully.
A ruler who had defeated a hundred thousand men at such a young age would return like lightning.
....
In Dorne, at Sunspear's Water Gardens, Oberyn had returned from Dragonstone half a month earlier, citing "early refuge" as his reason.
Even though most of the Seven Kingdoms were deep in winter, Dorne remained warm.
The Dornish still wore light clothing.
Oberyn was no exception. A thin silk tunic clung to his body, outlining his muscles clearly.
"What a shame about that spear," he muttered.
He popped a blood orange—Sunspear's specialty—into his mouth, the sweet juice bursting across his tongue, yet he tasted little pleasure.
He could not forget that divine weapon.
"Uncle!"
A clear, youthful voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Turning his head, he saw his niece, Arianne.
She still carried a bit of baby fat, her round little belly protruding adorably.
She was only as tall as Oberyn's waist.
It was easy to imagine that she would not grow very tall in the future.
"Uncle, Father wants to see you."
"Oh, I know."
Taking a handkerchief from a servant to wipe his hands, Oberyn took Arianne's already slender little hand and led her toward Doran.
Doran had suffered from gout for some time now, though it was not yet as severe as it would become years later, when he could barely walk.
At the moment, he sat by a fountain, watching a group of children at play. All of them were from noble families.
Among them were also Oberyn's bastards.
Oberyn had fathered his first child at the age of thirteen. His eldest daughter was now studying at the Citadel.
Doran handed Oberyn a letter.
"From Dragonstone."
"A marriage proposal?" Oberyn asked lazily, reaching for it.
"Viserys defeated a hundred thousand men in Essos."
Oberyn's body jolted. He nearly dropped the letter.
He read it quickly. It was indeed Rhaella's handwriting.
"Is this true?" Oberyn murmured.
"Do you think our Queen Mother would lie?"
Oberyn pressed his lips together, his expression like that of a man who had lost ten lovers at once.
If only he had stayed in Gohor for two more months, House Martell could have completely made up for its missteps during the War of the Usurper.
All of Dorne had sent only ten thousand men. Everyone knew the self-interest behind that decision.
"This really isn't your fault," Doran said calmly. "Who could have imagined he would actually manage to bring a fleet to Gohor?"
"I'll go to Gohor tomorrow," Oberyn said, folding the letter.
"Good. And while you're there, you can also raise the matter of Arianne's marriage."
Now the Targaryens dominated the Upper Rhoyne and the Little Rhoyne, and also controlled access to the port of Pentos.
It was more than enough to justify another marriage alliance with House Martell.
"Take this with you as well."
Doran placed an object he had been handling into Oberyn's hands.
It was a Valyrian steel crown.
"This was Daeron's crown," Doran said quietly. "And it was also the crown of Aegon the Conqueror."
___________
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