In the main hall of Storm's End, Lo Quen sat high upon his seat, watching the group being led in below.
At their head was a tall woman.
She wore a perfectly tailored, deep-purple gown that hugged her figure, with a cloak over it embroidered with the falling star sigil. Midnight-black hair framed a strikingly beautiful face, but what drew the eye most were her violet eyes, deep and bright.
She stopped before the throne and offered an elegant bow.
"Good day, Your Grace. I am Allyria Dayne of Starfall. In accordance with your writ, I have brought the heirloom of House Dayne: Dawn."
At her words, a knight in Starfall colors stepped forward, holding an enormous greatsword in both hands.
The blade looked like milky-white glass, the torchlight sliding over it in a soft, restrained sheen. Even as it lay still, it seemed to give off something almost sacred.
Lo Quen rose from the throne and descended the steps at an unhurried pace.
He stopped before the knight, reached out with both hands, and took Dawn by the hilt.
The greatsword was heavy in his grip, far beyond ordinary steel. The pale blade felt strangely warm and smooth beneath his fingers, as if it carried a quiet pulse of life.
He gave it a casual swing. The edge cut the air with a low, clear hum.
Allyria Dayne lifted her head, her violet eyes following his movements. A faint smile touched her lips.
"Your Grace, the greatsword Dawn is not necessarily passed to the head of the house or the lawful heir. It is granted to the knight within the family deemed most worthy to wield it, regardless of which branch he comes from. But now, if Your Grace desires this sword, I can offer it to you on behalf of House Dayne of Starfall."
Lo Quen rested Dawn's tip against the floor and turned his gaze to the dark-haired, violet-eyed beauty.
Her bluntness, and the unmistakable goodwill behind it, stirred him slightly.
"Lady Allyria, a treasure like this, a symbol of your house, is not something given to an outsider lightly. Tell me what you want. I can feel you didn't come here unprepared."
The smile slowly faded from Allyria's face. She drew a steadying breath.
"Your Grace, my nephew, Edric Dayne, the lawful heir to Starfall, was young and impulsive. He followed my betrothed, the late Lord Beric Dondarrion, into the chaos of the Riverlands, and we have heard nothing of him since."
"Now Lord Beric is confirmed dead. My greatest fear is that if Edric has also perished in the Riverlands, then House Dayne of Starfall will face the danger of its line being cut off."
She looked up at Lo Quen.
"Starfall needs a ruler who can lead it into the future. Its people need hope, not endless waiting for someone who may never return. So I offer myself. I ask that you invest in me as Lady of Starfall, so that I may continue the bloodline and rule of House Dayne."
Lo Quen listened in silence, weighing her words.
What Allyria said was reasonable.
Edric Dayne's fate was still unknown. Leaving an important Dornish border stronghold in limbo over its succession was hardly wise.
As the sister of Arthur Dayne, the "Sword of the Morning," and Ashara Dayne, Allyria's birth was noble, and she seemed capable enough as well. Letting her inherit Starfall would indeed stabilize matters.
And offering Dawn so readily was clearly meant to buy her that rightful, recognized position.
"Your reasoning is sound, Lady Allyria."
Lo Quen finally nodded and made his decision.
"I grant your request. From this day forward, you are the Lady of Starfall, ruler of House Dayne. I hope you will live up to the Dayne name and guard the gateway of Dorne well."
A radiant smile bloomed instantly across Allyria's face.
She bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your trust and grace, Your Grace! I will devote myself fully to governing Starfall and remain loyal to you!"
The twists of her fate seemed, at last, to have reached a turning point.
The loss of her betrothed and the disappearance of her nephew had once plunged her into despair. Now, through her own courage and resolve, she had secured a chance for her house to endure.
...
After Allyria departed, still glowing with the joy of her investiture, Lo Quen took the greatsword Dawn to Maester Qyburn's laboratory.
Qyburn accepted Dawn with open curiosity, his eyes lighting up at once.
He carefully ran his fingers along the milky-white blade, flicked it lightly to listen to its resonance, and examined it with a variety of small instruments.
After a moment, he looked up, his gaze filled with both wonder and certainty.
"Your Grace, this is not Valyrian steel. Its material… I have never encountered anything like it. The density is extremely high, the structure remarkably stable. The legend that it was forged from a fallen star may not be mere fancy."
Lo Quen nodded.
"Qyburn, do you think it could be the Lightbringer of Azor Ahai from the legends?"
Qyburn set the sword down, considered for a moment, then shook his head.
"Your Grace, I believe we may be mistaken about a key point. According to the red priestesses, Jon Snow has gone east, and he did not take Dawn with him. If this sword truly were the Lightbringer meant to end the Long Night, how could he fulfill the prophecy empty-handed?"
Lo Quen rubbed his chin.
"That's true. So this sword… may not be of much help in ending the Long Night?"
Qyburn smiled.
"Your Grace, not necessarily. Even if it is not Lightbringer, the blade itself holds secrets. Please allow me to study it for a time. I may uncover clues about that otherworldly material. That knowledge could be far more valuable than a mere weapon."
Lo Quen agreed and entrusted Dawn to Qyburn.
He himself relied little on swordsmanship; his true strength lay in his own dragon bloodline.
...
Three days later.
The harbor outside Storm's End was crowded with people and alive with noise, banners flying high.
Hundreds of warships, great and small, gathered there, their masts rising like a forest.
Lo Quen's eastern expedition began boarding the fleet.
The nights were growing longer.
He could wait no more. He had to reach the East as soon as possible.
For this reason, Lo Quen had begun preparing the eastern campaign a month earlier.
In addition to his elite ground forces and a portion of the Dragon Soul Guards, he brought all of the Queens with him.
Traveling alongside them were Maester Qyburn, Archmaester Marwyn, and several hundred highly skilled firecasters.
The massive fleet slowly sailed out of the harbor, setting course across the Narrow Sea toward the continent of Essos.
Their first destination was Slaver's Bay.
After four long, tedious, and exhausting months at sea, the vast armada finally reached the entrance to Slaver's Bay.
Before them lay the mouth of the Worm River as it flowed into the bay, its banks flanked by barren yellow land.
Lo Quen looked ahead across the estuary. Beyond it, Astapor, the first great city of Slaver's Bay, crouched along the northern shore like a beast of packed earth.
Towering city walls came into view.
At regular intervals along the ramparts stood crudely carved, fearsome harpy statues, wings spread wide and talons bared.
At the heart of the city rose a massive stepped pyramid built of stacked square platforms, where the Good Masters lived and held council, the very symbol of Astapor's power.
And in this quiet, seemingly peaceful setting, an endless fleet broke into the calm waters of Astapor Bay.