Morning came too quickly. The boy did not fight this time. When they found him, he stood near the edge of the lower docks, as if he had been waiting. The same stillness from before lingered in him, but now it felt different. Like something had already been decided for him.
They brought him before Drexo. The throne room was quiet. Too quiet for a place that had held so much noise days ago.
The boy's eyes moved, quick and uncertain now, taking in the guards, the stone walls, the man seated before him. He swallowed once, clutching his hands together as if that alone could hold him steady.
Drexo watched him for a long moment. Not with anger. Not yet. Just measuring. "You carried messages before," Drexo said.
The boy hesitated. Then nodded. Drexo leaned forward slightly. "You will carry one more."
The boy's lips parted, but no words came out. A guard stepped forward, placing the folded note into his small hands.
It felt heavier than it should. "Send it," Drexo said.
It was simple, and final. They led him to the raven post. The bird waited, restless, shifting on its perch, dark eyes sharp and aware. The boy's fingers trembled as he tied the note to its leg. He fumbled once, then again, breath catching in his throat.
"Do it," one of the guards muttered. The boy exhaled and released the bird..For a second, it stayed. Then its wings spread. And it took to the sky.
They all watched it go. Until it became nothing more than a shadow against the light.
"Arrest the boy," Drexo ordered..The words came without hesitation.
The boy stiffened. Fear flashed across his face this time. Real, and immediate.
"But make sure you feed and take care of him," Drexo added, his voice lowering just slightly. "I do not want another note to be sent to our enemies."
The guards moved. The boy did not resist. He only looked back once. They took him and dragged him to one of the palace cells.
From that moment, Cliffland changed. The celebration died quietly. Not all at once. But enough.
Men who had been drunk on victory now moved with purpose. Orders replaced laughter. Steel replaced cups. The rhythm of preparation settled over the city like a storm building in silence.
Ships were pulled closer to shore. Repaired, and reinforced.
Sails checked and rechecked. Supplies carried in steady lines from storage to deck.
Voices dropped. Movements sharpened. No one asked questions out loud. But everyone felt it. Something was coming. And they would not be caught unready.
Far to the North, Edmond stood alone when the raven arrived. The cold air did nothing to ease the weight in his chest.
Cliffland still lingered in his mind. Not the fire. Not the screams. But the moment before he turned away.
The moment he knew he had lost. The raven landed beside him. He stared at it for a second longer than necessary.
Then he reached out. Untied the note. Unfolded it. His eyes moved across the words once.
Then again, slower. A smile touched his lips. Small, and cold.
"They thought because they defeated us at Cliffland." he murmured, almost to himself, "they can defeat us in Snowland."
He folded the note carefully, turned, and walked.
Robert stood where he always did, surrounded by men who spoke in lowered tones and watched everything with quiet hunger.
Edmond said nothing at first..He simply handed him the note..Robert took it, and read.
Then, he smiled. "They will be committing suicide now." The words came with a kind of satisfaction that lingered.
Heavy, and certain. Robert straightened. "Send a message across all six kingdoms loyal to me," he said. "I need them to come with their entire army."
No hesitation. No doubt. Messengers moved immediately. Ravens were prepared, and released.
One after another. Dark wings cutting through pale skies. Carrying war with them.
The message reached Dorne before nightfall.
Lord Gregory stood over the map when it was delivered. He read it once. Then again..His expression did not change. "The king has summoned us," he said finally.
His voice carried through the room.."And we must answer." He looked up. "Prepare the army. We sail at dawn."
Men moved instantly. Orders spread. Armor was gathered. Weapons lifted. Ships prepared. The harbor filled with motion, with urgency that felt almost alive.
By morning, the docks were no longer quiet. Soldiers boarded in waves. Boots against wood. Metal against metal. Voices tight, focused. Gregory stepped onto his ship last. He did not look back. The sails rose..The wind caught. And Dorne began to empty.
At the same time, far from their sight, Drexo moved..His ships cut through the water with purpose. No noise beyond what was necessary. No signal fires. No wasted movement.
Maria stood at the front of one, her eyes fixed ahead. Drexo watched her from behind..There was something about her in moments like this.
Still, and unshaken.
As if the outcome had already been decided somewhere only she could see. "Dorne will be empty," she said without turning.
Drexo nodded. He knew. That was the plan. And now, they would see if it held.
They reached Dorne within a day. The city stood quiet. Not abandoned. But stripped. The gates held only a fraction of the force that should have been there.
They did not expect this. They could not. The attack came fast. Brutal, and clean.
Walls fell quicker than they should have. Resistance broke under pressure that came too sudden to withstand.
Men ran. Some fought. Most fell. By the time the sun reached its height, Dorne was no longer theirs.
Drexo stood within its walls. Breathing steady. Watching as his men secured what remained.
At sea, Gregory received the message. It came too late..A soldier rushed to him, breath uneven, the note clutched tight.
"My lord!"
Gregory took it, and read. And for the first time. Something cracked. Not outwardly. But inside. "Turn the ships," he commanded.
His voice did not rise. But it cut through everything. "I will not be a lord without a throne."
The ships shifted. Slow at first, then faster. Turning against the wind. Against the current. Against the plan they had committed to. Back to Dorne.
They arrived to smoke. To silence that did not belong. To a city already taken. Gregory did not hesitate. "Prepare for battle.".The words moved through his men like fire.
They landed. And the fight began.
Furious, and Immediate. No pause. No negotiation.
Steel met steel within the streets. Men who had just taken the city now fought to keep it.
And Maria did not step back. She commanded from within. Her voice cut through the chaos, sharp, precise, pulling her forces into shape even as the battle threatened to tear them apart.
"Hold the line!"
"Push them back!"
"Do not let them breathe!"
Gregory cut through the fighting toward her. His blade moved fast.
Heavy.
Driven by something more than duty. Loss, rage, and desperation.
Their eyes met. For a moment, the noise faded. Then they moved. Steel clashed. Once, twice, and again.
Gregory pressed forward, each strike meant to break, to overwhelm, to end it quickly.
Maria did not give him that. She shifted. Turned. Met force with precision. He was strong. Experienced.
But she was something else. Their blades locked. For a second.
Close, too close. "You took my home," Gregory growled.
Maria did not answer. She moved..Her sword slipped past his guard in a motion so quick it barely registered.
Then struck. Clean, and final. Gregory's body stilled, Then fell.
And with him, Dorne fell again. This time for good.
The fighting ended slower than it began. Pockets of resistance collapsed one by one.
Until there was nothing left to fight. Drexo stood at the center of it. Another throne taken. Another crown within reach.
He did not take it himself. Not yet. Instead, he installed another ruler. A man chosen, measured, and placed.
The new ruler knelt before him.."I swear allegiance to you," he said.
Drexo nodded once. Behind him, the weight of what he had done settled.
Four kingdoms. "You now have four of the Nine Kingdoms," Maria said quietly.
Drexo glanced at her. Then nodded. One by one, the rulers bowed. Not just in respect..In submission.
And in that moment, something shifted..Not just in the room. But in Astarous itself.
At Dorne, before those who had bent the knee, Drexo was anointed, and crowned. King of Astarous.
Lord of the Nine Kingdoms. The title settled on him. Heavy, and unforgiving.
Real, and somewhere beneath it all. The war was only just beginning.