For hours, the Water Gardens remained peaceful.
The laughter of children echoed across the marble courtyards, mixing with the gentle splashing of water from the fountain pools. Occasionally, a ripe blood orange would fall from the trees with a soft thump, releasing its sweet fragrance into the warm Dornish air.
The scent of citrus lingered everywhere.
Prince Doran Martell sat quietly beneath the shaded pavilion, wrapped in loose linen robes. Beside him stood his younger brother, the Red Viper of Dorne, Oberyn Martell. Near the archway, Areo Hotah—the captain of the guards—stood motionless with his longaxe in hand, silently watching over the gathering.
The atmosphere was calm.
Too calm.
Because everyone present understood that beneath the peaceful beauty of the Water Gardens, war was slowly approaching.
"Tap… tap… tap…"
The sound of footsteps echoed through the courtyard as the maester arrived. Moments later came the heavier sound of boots striking stone.
The Sand Snakes had arrived.
The first to enter was Obara Sand.
Prince Doran recognized her immediately, even before seeing her face. Obara walked with long, impatient strides, as though every second spent standing still irritated her. She moved like a warrior born for battle, proud and aggressive.
She always preferred stallions over mares and often boasted that she could tame any horse in Dorne—
And any man as well.
Doran watched her approach silently.
For a brief moment, he envied the ease with which she moved.
Once, he too had been strong. Once, he had walked proudly through Sunspear without pain.
Now, gout had ruined his body.
His swollen joints twisted beneath his robes like misshapen fruit. His left knee bulged like an apple, while the right resembled a melon. Even his toes were dark red and swollen, looking as though they might burst at the slightest touch.
At times, even the weight of a bedsheet caused unbearable pain.
Yet Doran never complained.
Pain was weakness exposed before others.
And silence, he believed, was a ruler's greatest ally.
"Uncle. Father."
Obara's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
She was the eldest of the Sand Snakes, nearly thirty years old, tall and broad-shouldered. Her close-set eyes and brown hair came from the prostitute in Oldtown who had given birth to her.
She wore weathered riding leathers beneath a dark golden cloak made from sandworm silk. A whip rested at her waist, while a bronze-and-iron shield hung across her back.
In one hand, she carried a long spear.
Among the Sand Snakes, Obara looked the most openly dangerous.
Then came Nymeria Sand.
Where Obara resembled a hardened warrior, Nymeria carried herself like a noblewoman from a royal court. She was slender and graceful, her long black hair braided carefully with red-and-gold cords.
Her sharp widow's peak mirrored Oberyn's perfectly.
High cheekbones, smooth pale skin, and dark seductive eyes gave her a beauty Obara lacked entirely.
Nymeria wore flowing pale-purple silk that shimmered softly in the sunlight.
Her mother had been a noblewoman of ancient Volantis, and it showed clearly in her bearing.
The third Sand Snake entered quietly behind them.
Tyene Sand.
At first glance, she appeared harmless.
Beautiful golden hair framed her delicate face, while her deep blue eyes seemed gentle and innocent. She wore a pale-blue satin dress trimmed with intricate Myrish lace, making her resemble a shy young maiden rather than a dangerous bastard of House Martell.
But Doran knew better.
Behind Tyene's soft appearance hid the deadliest danger of them all.
Her mother had been a septa, and Tyene had inherited both her beauty and her ability to deceive others effortlessly.
Obara crossed her arms impatiently.
"Have you finally decided on war?"
The other Sand Snakes looked equally serious.
Prince Doran sighed quietly.
"Our strength is both great… and small," he replied carefully.
Obara snorted.
"As long as you call for vengeance against the Lannisters, all of Dorne will answer. From Sunspear to the Greenblood, from the mountains to the deep desert—men and women alike will cheer for war."
Her eyes burned with excitement.
"What do you wish me to do, child?" Doran asked calmly.
Obara stepped forward immediately.
"You don't need to leave the Water Gardens, Uncle. Let Father command the armies. There are soldiers gathered at the Prince's Pass and more at the Boneway. Give them to him."
Her voice grew fiercer.
"No one in the Marches wants to die for the Lannisters. The moment we march, others will join us."
"You desire blood," Doran observed quietly.
"And gold," Obara answered without hesitation. "The Westerlands are rich."
Doran's gaze hardened slightly.
"We already received Gregor Clegane's head."
Obara scoffed.
"That was Father's revenge, not ours. I want more. More blood. More war."
She tightened her grip on her spear.
"I want to drive this spear through Tywin Lannister's stomach and see whether gold pours out instead of blood."
Before Doran could answer, Oberyn interrupted calmly.
"Look at the children."
Everyone turned toward the pools.
Several children lay upon the warm red marble beneath the sun. Others ran along the beaches nearby, laughing as they splashed water at one another. Some were building sandcastles near the shore.
The youngest could not have been older than five.
The oldest perhaps ten.
Their cheerful voices filled the gardens with life.
Oberyn looked toward his daughters.
"War is not a game."
Obara frowned but remained silent.
"Your uncle carries responsibilities beyond revenge," Oberyn continued. "I promised justice for Elia, but our plans are more complicated than simple slaughter."
Doran nodded slowly.
"This decision is not easy, Obara. Give me time."
"You've already taken too much time," she replied bitterly.
"Some things are worth waiting for."
Doran's tired eyes moved across the Sand Snakes.
"When I decide, I'll send word to Sunspear immediately."
Obara muttered something under her breath but stepped back reluctantly.
Then Nymeria smiled faintly.
"Uncle, I'm not like Obara."
Her tone was smooth and elegant.
"When news of the Mountain's death reached me, I was sharing wine and bed with the Fowler twins. The news tasted sweeter than either of them."
Areo Hotah remained expressionless, though he knew better than most how dangerous Nymeria truly was.
Unlike Obara, who displayed her weapons openly, Nymeria preferred hidden blades.
And hidden blades were often deadlier.
"You know the Fowler words, don't you?" Nymeria asked playfully. "'Let Me Soar.'"
Her smile sharpened.
"So let me soar, Uncle."
"You seek an army as well?" Doran asked.
"No."
Nymeria shook her head gracefully.
"I only need Tyene."
Obara groaned immediately.
"She's too soft."
"Exactly," Nymeria replied. "No one suspects Tyene."
Tyene smiled sweetly but said nothing.
Nymeria continued calmly.
"I don't require thousands of soldiers. I only want four heads."
Doran's expression darkened slightly.
"Which heads?"
"The Old Lion. The golden twins. And the bastard boy Joffrey."
"The boy did nothing to Dorne," Doran answered sternly.
"He is still a bastard born from incest and betrayal," Nymeria replied coldly. "Stannis and the Storm Lord are correct about that much."
"You ask for too much."
"Perhaps only enough," she answered. "We have waited more than ten years."
Doran leaned back heavily.
"Waiting has never been meaningless."
His voice grew quieter.
"For years, your father and I have studied King's Landing. We weighed the strengths and weaknesses of the Small Council. We searched for allies in darkness."
He paused briefly.
"We seek justice for Elia, but provoking Tywin too early would destroy us."
Nymeria narrowed her eyes.
"Now we have allies."
"Dangerous allies," Doran warned immediately.
His gaze shifted toward Oberyn.
"The Storm Lord has followers… and even more enemies. If we move carelessly, Dorne will burn alongside him."
Nymeria smiled slightly.
"If I were you, I would already have spears marching across the Kingsroad."
Oberyn ignored the comment and turned toward Tyene.
"And what about you, daughter?"
Tyene folded her hands gently before her.
"I can go alone."
Her voice was soft as silk.
Yet everyone listening understood the danger hidden beneath it.
"I can ease the Lannisters' suffering."
Doran raised an eyebrow.
"You wish to travel to King's Landing?"
Tyene nodded.
"Yes."
"No," Oberyn answered before Doran could speak. "King's Landing is not your destination."
Tyene tilted her head slightly.
"Then where?"
"The Stormlands. Or perhaps Dragonstone."
Oberyn smiled faintly.
"You will disguise yourself as a septa. It suits you perfectly."
Tyene blinked curiously.
"And why would I go there?"
"The Storm has risen in the Stormlands," Oberyn said quietly. "Renly is dead or broken. Chaos spreads across the realm."
His eyes darkened.
"You will travel against the current and find them."
"Protect them," Doran added carefully.
"And Daenerys?" Tyene asked softly.
"Yes," Oberyn answered. "Remain close to the storm… and protect Daenerys as well."
Obara frowned immediately.
"And what about us?"
Nymeria looked equally dissatisfied.
Oberyn smirked.
"You will help me clean the spiders from Dorne."
The meaning was obvious.
Sunspear and the Shadow City were filled with spies. Some belonged to Varys the Spider, while others served rival lords throughout Dorne.
Doran nodded.
"Take Arianne with you. She needs to understand that the coming age will be soaked in blood."
The Sand Snakes exchanged excited glances.
"Gladly," they answered together.
Moments later, they departed.
Silence returned to the Water Gardens.
Only the distant laughter of children remained.
After a while, Doran spoke quietly.
"Is sending Tyene too dangerous?"
Oberyn shrugged.
"She is my calmest child… and my deadliest."
"Obara uses spears. Nymeria uses knives. Tyene uses poison."
"And the fourth Sand Snake plays her own games in Oldtown," Oberyn added.
Doran sighed.
"The first two are too reckless. Their lives are chaos itself."
"But Tyene is different," Oberyn said proudly. "She has discipline. Intelligence. Patience."
He smiled slightly.
"She also happens to be beautiful enough to charm saints."
Doran rubbed his swollen knee painfully.
"I only hope she serves the storm instead of falling for him."
Oberyn laughed softly.
"If that happens, perhaps it simply means he was worthy."
The Red Viper picked up a blood orange and peeled it slowly.
Bright crimson juice dripped across his fingers like fresh blood.
"War is coming," Doran murmured.
"From Westeros to Volantis, everyone prepares for it."
Oberyn bit into the orange calmly.
"Chaos creates crowns."
His eyes gleamed sharply.
"And opportunities."
Doran stared toward the distant sea.
"I pray you are right."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Because no matter how dangerous the storm may be… it is still better than the Lannisters."
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