[Sunspear, 15 days before Vlad's arrival in Westeros.]
In the days following her arrival, Daenerys remained in Sunspear without drawing too much attention, partly because her stay had to remain secret and partly because parading among Dornish nobles felt more like a punishment than a privilege.
She spent her mornings training with a sword in the inner courtyards, and since her awakening, as she liked to call it, fighting had become more stimulating than any courtly game. It did not match the euphoria of riding her dragon, but wielding her Valyrian sword "TrueBlood" gave her a different kind of satisfaction, the certainty of being stronger and faster than any ordinary man.
In the afternoons she studied the book of pyromancy Vlad had left her. The content was dense and dangerous and, although she still could not channel fire with precision, she could feel her progress, the energy pulsing within her.
The servants watched her discreetly, some even spied on her openly, and it was evident that Doran Martell distrusted her, even though his pain had lessened since she offered him that small vial.
One morning, one of the guards informed her that the prince was waiting in one of the inner chambers, and Daenerys did not take long to present herself. She walked through the stone corridors with confidence, her silver hair tied back with a simple ribbon and her expression calm.
Doran awaited her seated, surrounded by documents.
—Good day, Princess —he greeted courteously— I hope your stay in Sunspear has been a pleasant one.
Daenerys did not miss that the Prince of Dorne refused to call her Your Grace, but she would not make an issue of it, not yet, he was not her brother.
—As pleasant as can be expected, Prince Doran —she said with a faint, slanted smile— Though I must say it has been more hospitable than some of your vassals anticipated.
Doran understood exactly what she meant.
—Ser Arron was disrespectful, for that I offer my apologies —Doran noted in a conciliatory tone— I have already reminded him of his place.
—I am used to men underestimating me —she remarked with an ironic smile— Curiously, it rarely ends well for them.
Doran took a cup, drank slowly, and continued:
—I am grateful for the cure you gave me, it has eased my pain and allowed me to walk for the first time in years —he added sincerely— Something no maester I consulted could achieve, and they certainly did not approve of me drinking something born of the so-called "higher mysteries" without consulting them.
Daenerys smiled with quiet satisfaction before replying:
—For centuries, Westeros has despised the power of magic, dismissing it as tales or dark rituals, but my husband has awakened that power —she continued with pride— He has made it measurable and teachable, like any discipline of the Citadel, and that is our advantage.
Doran did not look convinced.
—Your husband is an enigma —he observed in a serious tone— He came from nowhere and now sets his sights on Westeros, I do not know whether he does so out of ambition or for you.
Daenerys laughed, a sincere, musical sound.
—I assure you it is for me, if it were up to him he would have spent the rest of his life in some corner of Essos, built himself a quiet castle and never thought of the throne even once —she replied, casting him an almost complicit glance— He calls it a monstrosity of iron.
Doran allowed himself a small shake of the head, unconvinced.
—And yet, here you are —Doran insisted— Asking for Dorne's support to place upon the throne a house that is not of Westeros.
—House Targaryen will not vanish if its fate concerns you so much —she answered calmly— But my children will bear his name, it is the least I can do for him, I will not place a name above my blood.
—Then you seek war —Doran concluded gravely.
—Do not be melodramatic, anyone with sense knows the only way to reclaim the throne is war, the difference will be the scale and the number of lives lost —Daenerys replied without losing her composure— Your own pursuit of justice would have ended the same way, Prince Doran.
—There are other ways to obtain justice —Doran murmured.
Daenerys looked at him as if he were a fool.
—Like that boy who claims to be Rhaegar's son? —she asked with a cold smile.
Doran blinked, surprised, but she dismissed the matter with a small gesture of her hand.
—I have known for years, I know who he is, or rather what he is not. He is not Rhaegar's son —she added, shrugging with an almost insulting calm— He is a descendant of Blackfyre, raised by the Spider to be the king the Targaryens never were, a noble idea, I admit, but still a false one.
Doran watched her in silence.
Truth be told, he had not had many interactions with the supposed son of Rhaegar and had limited himself to maintaining contact with Varys, who spoke of how he had saved the boy all those years ago, and though skeptical, Doran wanted to believe it was true.
—And even if he advanced —she continued— Even if he convinced half of Westeros, the Lannisters would not remain idle.
A spark glimmered in her eyes.
—Soon you will discover why your only option is us —she added softly— Take care of your family, Prince, after all, it is the most important thing we have.
The warning, more than intimidating Doran, made it clear that Daenerys possessed privileged information, something that did not surprise him, considering Vlad's spies had reached his own office before his men even noticed.
Even so, when he thought of his brother in King's Landing, he knew the warning was most likely meant for him, and he decided that, as soon as Daenerys left the chamber, he would order all available information about the situation in the capital to be gathered.
Before he could inquire further, a new presence made itself known. Arianne Martell appeared in the doorway, smiling politely, clad in an orange dress that clung to her curves, her hair framing her face.
—Forgive the interruption, father, Princess —she commented, emphasizing the word "Princess"— If you have finished here, I wished to invite Princess Daenerys to breakfast with me and my dear friend Myrcella.
There was sweetness in the invitation, but her heart beat fast, and Daenerys simply watched her intently, curious about whatever she had planned.
—Princess, you have given me much to consider —Doran admitted, rising— Please, enjoy the morning with my daughter, I will give you a final answer tonight.
—Of course —she nodded, rising with a smile as she looked directly at the Princess of Dorne— It will be a pleasure.
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Daenerys left Doran's chamber and walked beside Arianne, who moved ahead with her back straight, escorted by two Dornish handmaidens.
—It's a beautiful day today, Princess, it will be a splendid breakfast —Arianne said, turning with a smile.
—I'm sure it will —Daenerys replied, just as they reached the garden doors.
The hanging gardens of Sunspear seemed untouched by the desert; beneath pergolas covered in flowers, the air was thick with sweet scents, while the fountains murmured softly over marble basins.
Near one of them, a square table had been arranged, with linen cloths and plates of fresh fruit, aged cheeses, and pastries.
Myrcella was already there, standing beside a rosebush, breathing in its fragrance with her eyes half closed and a serene expression. At barely fourteen, she still looked like a child, dressed in golden and pink silks, her gestures gentle.
—Princess. Your Grace —she greeted with a perfect curtsy, the only one to use the title correctly— You look radiant today, Your Majesty.
Daenerys smiled at her as Arianne stepped to her side.
—And you have blossomed splendidly —she remarked kindly— I would say you grow more beautiful each day.
Myrcella lowered her gaze, blushing, her fingers idly playing with a petal as if unsure what to do with them.
—I've caught my brother Trystane looking at her more than once —Arianne cut in with a light laugh— It seems you won't be the only one blooming here, dear.
Myrcella flushed even more and looked away, while Arianne watched her with a half-smile.
When they all took their seats, the servants served in silence. The scent of fresh bread mingled with that of cut fruit and, after a brief toast to peace, breakfast passed without incident.
They spoke of the weather and harmless gossip, and Arianne even made a playful remark about the attractiveness of one of Daenerys's men.
—I've heard the pyramids of Meereen are so tall they touch the sky —Myrcella said dreamily— One day I would like to see them with my own eyes.
—I promise I'll show them to you someday —Daenerys said without thinking much of it— We'll have time once you come with me.
—And I would be delighted to join you —Arianne added naturally.
Daenerys did not miss her effort to remain the center of the conversation.
—I imagine it cannot be easy for your husband to rule a city like Meereen —the Princess of Dorne remarked, with a barely concealed hint of distaste— With all those Dothraki and slavers roaming freely.
Daenerys was about to roll her eyes at the provocation, but she did not grant her that satisfaction.
—My husband has little patience for politics —she replied softly— I usually take charge of governing the cities we conquer, while he handles the army and defense.
—Like the perfect team —Myrcella exclaimed, sighing in admiration— You are made for each other.
—Of course —Arianne added, nodding with a certain stiffness.
The conversation drifted toward Dothraki customs, Meereen, and the cities Daenerys had visited across the Narrow Sea, and Myrcella asked questions with curiosity.
—And how much longer will you remain in Sunspear? —Arianne asked, wiping her lips with an embroidered napkin.
—We will depart in a few days, I'm afraid time is pressing —Daenerys replied with a smile— Our fleet will arrive in Westeros at any moment.
A brief silence followed.
Daenerys did not need to look up to notice the brush of leather against stone, the creak of boots on the ground, and the heartbeats of men who were slowly surrounding the gardens.
Even so, she said nothing; she simply picked up a strawberry, bit into it calmly, and smiled again.
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Hey guys. This week we're back to the Dorne storyline. It'll be a short arc, but it's important for establishing several political dynamics that will have a significant impact later in the story.
Also, I came up with a pretty interesting idea for Vlad to start gaining support in Westeros. I haven't seen it in other fanfics, so I think it could add something different and interesting to the plot.
By the way, these past few days have been a bit rough: I went to work with a high fever, and between that and the overtime, I'm completely exhausted. I'm itching to do a "Luigi Mangione."
The good thing is that, after so many shifts, they had to give me three days off in a row. Yay!
See you next week, guys.