Chapter 106: The Bastard Daughter of the "Red Viper"
Westeros, Dorne, Sunspear — The Water Gardens
The Water Gardens were a private retreat of House Martell, composed of countless fountains and flowerbeds. Located three leagues west of Sunspear along the coast, it was the favored residence of Prince Doran Martell.
When Dorne entered into a marriage alliance with the Iron Throne, Prince Maron Martell constructed this garden as a gift for his Targaryen bride, Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Thus, the Water Gardens stood as a symbol of reconciliation between Dorne and House Targaryen.
At this moment, Prince Doran Martell watched the noble children playing in the shallow pools. A faint smile lingered on his face, as though he were lost in distant memories.
Behind him stood his captain of guards, Areo Hotah, holding his longaxe in silence. However, the burly man soon sensed movement in the distance and turned his head instinctively.
Upon recognizing the approaching figure, Areo Hotah lowered his head and spoke:
"Your Highness, your brother has arrived."
Hearing this, Prince Doran quickly composed himself. Afflicted by gout, his legs were nearly immobile. Perhaps it was precisely because he lacked mobility that his ambitions had turned into patience—and, to some, hesitation.
Due to the actions of Jon's so-called "father," Dorne had suffered greatly during Robert's Rebellion. If not for its harsh terrain and the unity of its people, Dorne might have lost significant territory after the war.
As Areo finished speaking, two figures entered the pavilion—one following the other.
A man and a woman.
The man wore light Dornish silks, while the woman wore a flowing Dornish gown that left her shoulders bare.
"Wine chilled with ice—always refreshing!"
The slender man with a trimmed mustache strode forward, picked up a cup from the table, and drank deeply. The woman behind him gazed at him with soft, adoring eyes.
"Where have you been these past days?"
Prince Doran poured another cup, adding ice, and spoke calmly.
His younger brother—Prince Oberyn Martell—was infamous for his fiery temperament, not unlike Prince Daemon Targaryen of old. His recklessness in youth had caused no end of trouble.
"I had planned to send you to King's Landing to gather intelligence, yet you vanished without a word."
"Interesting figures have appeared across Westeros—news has even reached Dorne. I've been investigating."
Oberyn gestured for his paramour, Ellaria Sand, to sit upon his lap as he spoke casually.
Under his touch, Ellaria melted into his embrace, her expression languid. Their open display made the veins on Doran's forehead throb faintly.
"Have you already sent Sarella away?"
"I noticed that ever since the man calling himself Aegon appeared, magic has begun to stir again. Sarella has always been curious about such matters, so I sent her to investigate."
Oberyn did not hide his actions.
"Did I not tell you to avoid contact with this Aegon for now?"
"But brother, have you not heard? Ser Barristan Selmy—and that 'Imp' of House Lannister—have already joined him. If he marches on Westeros, we may lose our chance."
Doran had received word about Barristan—but not yet about Tyrion.
"What is the situation now?"
At this, Oberyn's expression grew more serious.
"That man—Aegon—sent word through Sarella. If we are interested in cooperation, we may send an envoy to negotiate."
"What terms does he seek?"
Oberyn paused, then spoke slowly:
"He intends to move against the Stormlands."
"What!?"
Tyrosh, Archon's Palace — The Golden Library
The Golden Library housed the accumulated texts of Tyrosh's Archons, some dating back to the days of the Valyrian Freehold.
Jon stood within the section marked in High Valyrian, searching through maps, accompanied by Sarene and Sarella Sand.
The two women possessed entirely different charms.
Though Sarella was not as delicate as Missandei, she carried a wild and untamed allure. Without the concealment of her earlier disguise, the Sand Snake revealed herself as a curvaceous, brown-skinned beauty.
More dangerously, Sarella did not merely tease Jon—she also frequently brushed against Sarene, whether intentionally or not. In fact, her interest in Sarene seemed even greater.
"My lord, I've found it!"
Sarene's voice rang out with excitement.
"My lord, this is a manuscript attributed to Maester Jaehaerys Belden. Here are the maps of Pterodactyl Point you requested, along with charts of the Basilisk Isles."
Pterodactyl Point was a peninsula in Sothoryos, a mysterious and largely unexplored continent. Even the Valyrian Freehold had never conquered it.
Jon's interest in this region lay in one thing—the so-called wyverns, creatures similar to dragons.
The origins of Valyrian dragons had always been a mystery. Some scholars theorized they were the result of blood magic experiments conducted by ancient Valyrians.
"And here—my lord!"
Not to be outdone, Sarella produced a scroll.
"This is from the travels of Ser Lomas Longstrider. His maps are far more detailed and reliable."
Cartography in the current age had begun to standardize, but older maps remained crude and inconsistent.
Even so, these were among the best available.
Though Jon possessed great power, transporting creatures from Sothoryos would not be easy.
"Then we'll make copies for now. Salladhor Saan should also have sea charts—if I recall, one of his ancestors claimed to have ruled as a pirate king in the Basilisk Isles."
After examining the map, Jon handed it to Sarella. Having studied at the Citadel, she possessed solid knowledge of navigation.
Taking the map, Sarella shot Sarene a provocative glance before laying it out.
She quickly began sketching with practiced precision. Within moments, the outline had taken shape.
Sarella Sand was one of the Sand Snakes—the bastard daughters of Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne.
Now that she had revealed her identity, Jon saw no reason to conceal his own capabilities. Moreover, her presence provided a convenient channel for sending information back to Dorne.
How much she learned, however, depended entirely on what Jon chose to reveal.
"Sarene, remain here and assist Sarella. I'll go speak with Salladhor Saan personally."
"Yes, my lord."
After receiving their responses, Jon departed swiftly.
"Sarene… have we met before?"
"No. I only sensed traces of shadow magic from you. Besides… you're quite beautiful. I wanted a closer look."
Sarella continued sketching as she spoke, her tone playful, her gaze lingering.
"You—"
Sarene stiffened. Though she had been trained to deal with people of Dorne, theory and reality were very different.
"Sarene?"
"What now?"
She already regretted engaging.
"Did it work?"
"What do you mean?"
Sarene's heart skipped.
"In Lys, there exists a form of shadow magic called the 'Touch of Desire.' The cost is steep—but those afflicted become utterly obedient."
Sarella looked up, amusement flickering in her eyes.
"Do you think Lord Aegon has noticed? And from what I know… you are supposed to serve Salladhor Saan, aren't you? Yet this magic belongs to the priestesses of Lys."
Her smile deepened.
"So tell me… whose agent are you, truly?"
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